Child's Play
by A Wandering Minstrel
Summary: Harry's latest case is uncomfortably familiar and starts him on another quixotic crusade. The only trouble is, how do you stop a killer when you're stuck babysitting? TVVERSE
1. Black Licorice

**Title:** Child's Play  
**Spoilers:** None in this chapter  
**Summary:** Harry's latest case is uncomfortably familiar and starts him on another quixotic crusade. The only trouble is, how do you stop a killer when you're stuck baby-sitting?  
**Disclaimer: **Harry's world does not belong to me. It belongs to Jim Butcher and SciFi. I merely frolic around merrily in it.

* * *

When you've been around magic for as long as I have, you start to be able to feel it. Whenever, wherever. Especially the black kind. Black magic leaves a taste in the air, like the ozone before a thunderstorm. You know it's there, though it may be hard to put your finger on.

I had to end my date early because of that taste. It was outside the restaurant where we'd just eaten dinner. I took her home and she wasn't pleased. Neither was I. When I kissed her goodnight, I didn't expect I'd be hearing from her again. It was unfortunate because she was definitely someone worth hearing from.

I circled back home to grab my drumstick, which is standard procedure when investigating black magic. Actually, my hockey stick was my preferred choice, you could do some serious damage with it, but it's hard to conceal in your pocket. It's also tough to explain why you need to carry it around with you, should a police officer inquire. Bob was doing some sort of operatic performance in the lab, so I didn't disturb him.

I got back to the restaurant and stood outside it, closing my eyes and feeling around with my other senses. The alley beside it tasted like black magic. It's a metallic, salty-sweet tang, with a touch of black licorice. I've never been able to enjoy black licorice since I discovered that taste and I've always wondered if it doesn't have some nefarious purpose in the world. When I walked down the alley, I got a jolt through my fingertips.

She was well back, away from the light over the door that led to the restaurant's kitchen. She was very dead, blue dead and her eyes were white and milky. She had no marks on her that I could see with a quick glance, just the taste of black licorice hovering in the air. There was also a pentacle flower necklace lying on the ground nearby, its chain snapped. I made a rough guess that if she herself wasn't of the magical persuasion, she certainly hung around with those who were. Or she had, when she was alive.

I was preparing to go to call the cops when something tickled at the back of my brain. It was a magic sort of tickling and I raised my drumstick in front of me as I turned to investigate. As far as I could see, there was no one else around but me and the dead woman. I Listened carefully and heard a very faint clacking noise. I reached out with my magical senses again and brushed up on something weak. It wasn't sinister this time, but I remained on guard nonetheless. Paranoid is never a bad thing.

I snuck towards the back of the alley, ready to fight if necessary. I followed the clacking noise and the magic tickling to the very back wall. It was hard to see, but I eventually found the source. There was a very small person tucked between a crate and the wall, well hidden. The clacking seemed to be teeth chattering.

I crouched down slowly and tried to get a closer look. It was a girl, a child, I could see that much. Her knees were drawn up to her chest and her forehead was touching them, hiding her face from me. She had no coat on; it was no wonder she was shivering. I imagine fear had something to do with it too.

"Hi there," I said, softly.

She looked up in alarm and pushed herself back against the wall as far as possible. With her head up, I could see the source of the magic tickling. She had a Celtic shield knot on a cord around her neck that let off an aura which was gently pressing on me to stay back, like a weak poke to the chest.

"Are you cold?" I asked.

I was trying to be non-threatening as she looked petrified. If she had witnessed what had gone on to make that girl so dead, I didn't blame her. I took off my coat and reached to wrap it around her like a blanket. She flinched back like she was expecting to be hit. I tucked it around her shoulders and she snuggled into it, but didn't look any less afraid of me.

"My name's Harry," I explained, as I worked. "Are you hurt?"

She looked me in the eyes, a thing a lot of people tend to avoid if they can. Apparently I have something scary in my eyes, it makes them nervous. Or they don't want to encourage the nutter who thinks he's a wizard, one or the other. I held her gaze and tried to present myself as someone she could trust.

"I cut my knee," she whispered, finally.

I could see the blood on her pant leg shining in the moonlight, now that I looked. I pulled some of the fabric out of the gash and tried to see how bad it was, but I didn't have much light to go by. I retrieved a handkerchief that I always carried in my pocket, a habit my father instilled in me. I pressed gently on the cut, which made her hiss and flinch.

"How long have you been here?" I asked her.

"Dunno."

"Do you...do you know that lady back there?"

Her eyes were huge and shone with the moon in them, accentuating her fear and her innocence. Again, she stopped to judge me, staring me hard in the face. I kept my eyes still.

"She's my mommy."

I winced. It was the sort of answer I was expecting but really didn't want to hear. I was at a loss of what to do. I should call the cops, but I couldn't leave the girl there with a dead body, in the cold, in the night. The pay phone was at the far end of the block. If I took her with me, she'd have to walk past her dead mother and I wasn't going to inflict that trauma on her either. I was silent, contemplating this. I felt a bit nauseous, remembering the image of my father dying before my eyes. Being helpless. I wondered if that's what I looked like. Dead in the eyes, shocked, lost. I didn't really have a response for her, other than 'well, that sucks a lot, doesn't it?' and somehow I didn't think that would help.

"I'm sorry," I said, which was just as useless, but it's what you say. She shrugged a little, looking down at her feet. "What's your name, kiddo?"

"Grey-lynne," she mumbled. "G-R-A-Y-L-I-N."

"Graylin," I repeated. "Cool name. I'm Harry. H-A-R-R-Y."

"You said your name already."

"I know, but I didn't spell it," I pointed out, absently.

I got the tiniest hint of a smile, directed at her shoe. It disappeared very quickly. Still, it made me relax slightly. If she'd been hysterical or sobbing, I would have been way out of my element, but she looked more in shock. I could deal with shock. Once I figured out what to do.

"Did you see what happened?" I asked, tentatively.

She shrugged again. "Yeah." She reached out suddenly and stroked one of the shields on my bracelet, then looked up from her shoes to stare into my eyes again. "Do you got magic?" She leaned in a little, conspiratorially. "My mommy's got magic." She frowned and blinked several times. "She did."

"I got magic, too," I confirmed. "I'm a wizard." I hesitated a moment, before asking, "Did a wizard do that to your mommy?" She nodded. "Did he hurt you?" She shook her head.

"He tried," she said, softly. "Mommy stopped him."

"Okay." I blew out a long breath to calm my anger and thought. "Alright, we need to call the police, Graylin. If I hold your hand and you close your eyes and follow me, would you come out of the alley with me?"

"Are you gonna hurt me?" She asked, eyes very huge again.

They made me want to go and hurt **someone **very badly. I shook my head and made sure to keep eye contact with her.

"No, I'm gonna help you," I promised. Her expression remained unsure. "What do you want me to swear on?"

She had to think about that for a second. "Ice cream."

"Ice cream?" I repeated. I made a serious face. "Okay. I solemnly swear on...ice cream, that I'm not going to hurt you." I made a motion of crossing my heart and sticking a needle in my eye. "Okay?"

She nodded and grabbed a hold of my hand with a sudden, desperate movement. "Okay."

I helped her to her feet and then uncrouched. I'm a tall guy and I'm used to towering over people, but she didn't even reach my hip. She was a very small person and she had to tilt her head way back to look at me. My coat around her shoulders hung to her ankles. I felt more sick than ever. She was too small for this to happen to her.

"Close your eyes tight," I requested. "And don't open them until I tell you to, okay?"

She obediently squeezed her eyes shut. She grabbed onto my hand with her other one as well and I walked slowly out of the alley, avoiding anything that might trip her. She limped slightly, because of her knee and my cumbersome coat but we got to the mouth of the alley without incident.

"Okay, you can open your eyes now," I said.

She opened one tentatively and then the other, relaxing her grip once she saw she was out on the main street again. She looked up, way up, at me expectantly.

"We're gonna go to a payphone now," I said, gesturing down the road.

She walked beside me, hands still clutched in one of mine. She stuck close by my legs and stared straight ahead, as though looking anywhere else might show her things she didn't want to see. I stopped at the payphone and went to reach into my coat pocket for change, only to remember I wasn't wearing it. I crouched down again, my knees kindly reminding me that I wasn't a frog.

"I have to get something from my pockets," I explained to Graylin.

She nodded an assent and I rummaged in one of the pockets which was levelled around her knee. We were in the light of the street lamp now and I could see her more clearly. She had a button nose and long, messy brown curls. She was white as a sheet. I placed her at maybe five or six and noted that she was aptly named. Her eyes, which watched me without really seeing me, were a medium grey colour and shone with the glassy look of someone who wasn't fully in the moment. I hoped wherever her mind had retreated to was better than this mess.

I found a quarter and managed to make my call with one hand, the other firmly belonging to Graylin at the moment.

"Kirmani," a voice barked on the other end.

I could have called 911, that would have been free, but I figured that I'd have a better response time if I just called the police directly. It wasn't like I didn't have the number memorized.

"Hey Kirmani," I responded.

"Oh God, Dresden," Kirmani groaned. "How many bodies are there this time?"

I winced a little. "Just one."

"Murphy's gonna kill you."

"Yep, I figured."

"Where are ya?"

I rubbernecked around to find a street sign, then gave him my location.

"Alright. Stay put. You know the drill," Kirmani said.

"Yeah," I sighed. "I know it."


	2. Procedure

**Title:** Child's Play  
**Spoilers:** None in this chapter  
**Summary:** Harry's latest case is uncomfortably familiar and starts him on another quixotic crusade. The only trouble is, how do you stop a killer when you're stuck baby-sitting?  
**Disclaimer: **Harry's world does not belong to me. It belongs to Jim Butcher and SciFi. I merely frolic around merrily in it.

* * *

"You know, Dresden, the only thing I like less than being called back to work, is when I get called back to work because of you," Lt. Constanza Murphy told me, 45 minutes later.

Cops had arrived by the dozen and corralled me in with police tape, Graylin at my side. Since she had taken my hand, she hadn't let it go and as I was talking and answering questions, I sometimes forgot she was attached to me until I tried to gesture with that hand and hers came with me. She had tiny hands and she only had a grip on my four fingers, squeezing them together tightly to fit in her grasp. She didn't say much. Her mother worked at the restaurant I'd been dining at an hour and a half earlier and she was reluctant to tell me or anyone else just what had gone on. She was silent and she clung to me, her eyes pointed straight ahead with the glossy look to them. I doubted that she was even there for most of the time.

"Why were you here?" Murphy continued. "Why are you always...**here**?"

I tried smiling, but she wasn't having any of it. "I was on a date here. We ate, I took her home, I thought I'd left my wallet, I came back, I heard the girl and I found..." Graylin and I gestured back towards the alley. "So, I called it in."

Okay, so it was a lie. It was a lie I had come up with while waiting for the cops to show up and it was easier than telling the truth. Murphy wouldn't believe the truth anyway and then we'd be wasting time with her trying to crack me. One day, I fully intend to sit her down and prove everything to her, but she wasn't ready for that. So, I had to lie. You would too.

"Okay, I talked to some of the staff," Kirmani interrupted us.

Murphy had been about to lay into me, I could tell from the expression on her face. So, I was unusually happy to have Kirmani there. He noticed the girl and lowered his voice, while both Murphy and I leaned in to hear him.

"Vic's Tamsin Cartwright, 21 years old, been working here about a year. Single mother, no mention of the father. She's got a deal with the boss says the kid can come to work with her as long as she's quiet. Vic and the kid went out into the alley around 8:40pm for break, like normal. They never came back in."

"Nobody wondered why?" Murphy asked.

"Everyone says things were very busy, 'specially with Cartwright gone and a couple people peeked out but didn't see either of them and they didn't have time to do a more thorough search," Kirmani continued. "The Maitre D' thought it was odd, says Cartwright is never late for anything and wouldn't skip out. Well-liked, no enemies anyone knows of, that sort of thing. One of the other waitresses thought Cartwright seemed worried lately, nobody else mentioned anything like that. They all thought she seemed normal. No unusual people hanging around the place or talking to her."

"Alright," Murphy sighed. "Not a lot to go on."

"The girl's an eye witness, right?" Kirmani asked.

"Yeah, but she's not talking yet," Murphy explained. "And I don't want to press her, but it's best to get her statement while it's still fairly fresh. I'm going to give her a bit before I question her."

"Lieutenant?" A small blonde cop I knew to be called Karen interrupted us. "Forensics wants you. For the..." She leaned in to our circle and whispered. "Body."

"Thanks, Karen," Murphy said.

She and Kirmani started down the alley. I crouched down to Graylin's level.

"Hey kiddo, I gotta go with the police for a second," I said. "And you have to stay here. But you'll be able to see me and this nice lady here is going to make sure you're safe, okay? Her name is Karen."

Graylin looked from me to Karen skeptically, clearly considering the woman insufficient for the task. "I want to stay with you," she whispered to me.

"I know," I said, feeling my heart break a little. "But this is really important and I think it'd be better if you stayed here. I'll be back as soon as I can. Listen," I pulled the pentacle necklace I always wear around my neck out from under my shirt and looped it off over my head. "I'm gonna leave this with you, okay? It's really special to me, and I'll definitely be coming back for it." I hung it around her neck, over the shield knot. The two objects thrummed with energy. "Is that alright?"

She nodded a little and released her grip, transferring it to Karen's outstretched hand. I smiled at her.

"Good girl. I'll be right back."

I stood and gave Karen a smile of thanks. She's a cute, dimpled thing and her smile is enough to make your heart skip a beat. It always comes as a surprise to me when she can judo throw a man three times her size without ruining her hair style.

"Dresden?" Murphy barked.

I stopped smiling at Karen and headed down to the body of Tamsin Cartwright. I had to dodge several cop-ducks, the uniforms who follow around people who aren't in uniforms and are assigned tasks like getting the coffee or putting up the police tape. Fortunately, they are very easy to move out of the way. A forensic person who was I unfamilliar with was crouching by Tamsin's head and Kirmani and Murphy were perched on either side of her, by her knees. I closed the circle by crouching at her feet. The CSI looked expectantly at Murphy, who nodded a go ahead.

"Preliminary examination is inconclusive on the COD," he began. "She has a large goose egg on the back of her head." He lifted her head and gently twisted it to show us, indicating the area with a gloved pinky. "But it's not severe enough to be the cause of death."

"Goose egg," I repeated. "There isn't a fancy medical name for that?"

He stared blankly at me. "No."

I twitched under the looks from Murphy and Kirmani. "Sorry."

"What's with her eyes?" Kirmani demanded.

"Undecided. Cloudy eyes can be a symptom of cataracts or glaucoma, but in both cases it would have to be very advanced and her vision would be severely limited. She certainly wouldn't have been able to work," CSI-guy mused. "It could be drugs, though I've never seen anything quite like this. Still, drug use does all sorts of havoc on your system. I have to get her back to the lab and do a full autopsy before I can be much more help to you."

"Alright, thanks Guy," Murphy said.

I stared at her for a second until I realized his name was actually Guy. I managed to turn my snort of laughter in a soft cough at the last second, but Murphy glared at me anyway. I don't blame her. I'm not mature enough to be at a crime scene.

"My turn," said Lisa Fredricks.

She'd been off to the side of Guy, waiting her turn. Lisa's another CSI, a few years younger than me and has the most beautiful pair of green eyes I have ever seen. I went out with her once and she's incredibly intelligent, which is probably why we didn't date anymore. I'm not mature enough to go out with a genius either.

The cops and I uncrouched ('seriously', my knees said, 'we weren't made for this') and followed Lisa down the alley a bit. Little cop-ducks scurried around, taking pictures. The flash on the top of one of the cameras exploded as I passed it. I winced and ducked away to move my line of fire. Electric appliances flee in fear of Harry Dresden.

Lisa walked us through the evidence. There was hair and blood stuck to the brick wall, where the vic must have hit her head. Gravitational blood drops from Graylin's knee. Smushed garbage bags suggesting somebody fell on them. It didn't mean a lot to me and I couldn't get close enough to palm anything of use.

"I know you haven't had a lot of time to look around yet," Murphy said. "But is there any chance the girl could have been responsible?"

I snapped out of my half-listening state at that. **"WHAT?"**

Murphy held her hand out to me in the universal sign for 'stop'. "We have to consider all possibilities, Dresden."

"That's ridiculous!" I yelled. Several cop-ducks looked my way.

"Harry, shut up," Lisa said. "And let me answer."

I folded my arms and looked as brooding as possible. Lisa gestured to the pile of smushed garbage bags.

"Those were put out there at approximately 8pm," she reported. "The dent in them is consistent with an adult, most likely male. I would say there was definitely a scuffle here at some point between 8pm and the time Mr. Dresden arrived on the scene. However, I can't say when the scuffle occurred or whether it had anything to do with the victim's death. The impact with which the victim apparently hit the wall would require a good deal of force, beyond that of what a child of the witness's size could produce. I can't say for sure, but I'm very doubtful that the child had any active role in the victim's death. "

I resisted adding "so there." Murphy nodded and lowered her hand from where it was still telling me to be quiet. Kirmani relaxed too. I think that he might have been ready to club me if given permission. In fact, I think he's usually ready to club me, permission or no.

"Thanks, Lisa," Murphy said. "Do you - "

"Harry?"

My head whipped around at the sound of Karen's voice. She sounded odd. Not panicked, but not calm either. I couldn't see her up the alley and I jogged towards the mouth to see what was up. I caught sight of her, but not Graylin, which quickened my pace. I was nearly there when there was a streak and Graylin threw herself at me. I bent down in time to catch her and get her knee right in my stomach.

"Ooof!" I said, staggering back. Graylin wrapped her arms around my neck and pushed her face into my shoulder. She was shaking all over and I could barely keep a hold of her. "What's wrong?"

Karen shook her head at me, bewildered. "She started to freak out. I don't know what happened."

"He's here," Graylin whispered to me, terrified.

I took a quick scan of the area for anyone out of place. "Where is he?"

"I dunno," she said. "I just know he's there." She buried her face in my neck again.

"Okay, okay," I soothed. I tried reaching out with my Senses, but didn't catch anything. "It's okay. You're safe here. You're safe with me."

* * *

From then on, there was nothing anyone could do to pull Graylin away from me. I couldn't reason with her, or soothe her or anything. She just clung and screamed if anyone tried to move her. Murphy decided that she'd gone through enough trauma that night without forcibly removing her from the wizard, so I rode with her to the station.

A child welfare person was waiting for us, which is when we discovered that Graylin would bite if cornered. It became clear that Graylin would not be going anywhere with Mrs. French, no matter how sweetly she talked or how much she looked like everyone's favourite grandmother. She and Murphy eventually agreed to let me act as temporary guardian, provided I sign my name on many different papers and that Murphy would vouch for me being a responsible adult and be held at fault for anything I might do that would endanger the child. I have a feeling it wasn't entirely legal. Murphy put a lot on the line for me, I appreciated it.

Murphy put Graylin and I in a room with some markers and sheets of blank paper. Graylin started to draw a butterfly with brightly coloured wings. I drew something vaguely resembling a cat. I was brought coffee, Graylin refused milk or water or juice. She just worked on her butterfly with dedication I admired.

Turns out Murphy has some training that lets her interview child witnesses. She spoke gently, in a motherly sort of voice. I forget sometimes that she has a kid. She chatted for a while about the restaurant and what Graylin's life was like, slowly circling in on what had happened that night. I had to use my encouraging eyebrow raise so often that I eventually just kept it on full-time. Graylin seemed unsure about what she should tell. If she'd gotten the same 'ix-nay on the agic-may' speech as I did when I was a kid, I could see how she could be confused.

Here's what we got: there was a man, a man probably as tall as Mr. Dresden or a little bit shorter. He had dark hair and was wearing dark clothing. He had a knife, but he didn't use it to cut either Tamsin or Graylin. He knew Tamsin and Graylin by name. He and Tamsin argued about something (unknown something) and then he did something (unknown something) that made Tamsin hit her head. He tried to grab Graylin but Tamsin got up and did something (unknown something) that made him stop. He got very angry and did something (unknown something) that hurt Tamsin very badly and Tamsin did not wake up. The man left after that and Graylin got scared. She hid in the back of the alley until Mr. Dresden came and found her. The end.

Mrs. French intervened from the room behind the mirror after Graylin started to throw things. I couldn't really blame her. She was trying to make decisions that I, 30 years her elder, have trouble making and doing it way past her bedtime with a metric ton of emotional weight on her shoulders. If she wanted to throw a few markers, I was more than willing to let her.

"I'm sorry," she said, rubbing an eye. "I can't talk no more."

"It's okay, Graylin," Murphy assured her. "You've done a very good job. You're a very brave girl."

"I don't like it here," Graylin complained. "I wanna go home."

"I know, sweetie," Murphy said. "But you agreed to stay with Mr. Dresden, remember? You have to go home with him. Is that okay?"

She looked at me and nodded. "I guess so. Can we go now?"

I looked to Murphy questioningly.

"You wrote your statement?" she asked.

"3 pages, double spaced," I confirmed.

"Then yes, you're free to go. Let me get my stuff."

I gave her a confused look. "You're coming with us?"

She grinned at me, wickedly. "Yeah, Dresden. I'm spending the night."


	3. Inteference

**Title:** Child's Play  
**Spoilers:** None in this chapter  
**Summary:** Harry's latest case is uncomfortably familiar and starts him on another quixotic crusade. The only trouble is, how do you stop a killer when you're stuck baby-sitting?  
**Disclaimer: **Harry's world does not belong to me. It belongs to Jim Butcher and SciFi. I merely frolic around merrily in it.  
**Author's Notes**: This was written before I'd had a good look at the layout of Harry's apartment, so the geography is off and there may be walls that don't actually exist. Apologies. :D

* * *

I sighed a small sigh of relief that Bob hadn't decided to take a midnight stroll when I unlocked the shop door. Murphy had to give me a hand with it, as I had Graylin on my right hip and was employing my right arm to keep her there. She was half asleep on my shoulder.

"Just up the stairs," I whispered to Murphy, pointing.

Luckily I had cleaned up a bit in anticipation of my date. It wasn't tidy, but there was no underwear or magical paraphernalia lying around either. I shut the door behind us and locked it, making sure all the sigils were in place. Whoever or whatever had killed Tamsin might come after the girl and I didn't want to take any chances.

"I can't see a thing, Dresden," Murphy whispered back. "Turn on the lights."

"Sorry," I said.

I grabbed the box of matches I kept by the door and handed them to her. A fireman once told me that leaving my candles unattended was a fire hazard. You know what else is a fire hazard? Demons from Hell. The fireman didn't mention them at all.

Murphy stared. "What's this for?"

"Candles."

"Seriously?" I just shrugged at her. "Okay, seriously."

She lit a couple that were on the nearest table and I wandered towards the stairs, lighting a few with magic. I could actually set them all ablaze with a quick spell, but not in front of Murphy. Graylin stirred restlessly on my shoulder and wrapped her arms around my neck.

"S'pretty," she muttered, sleepily. "I like candles."

"Me too," I agreed.

I picked up one that had a holder I could carry and climbed the stairs with it. Murphy was a few steps behind. I lit a few more in my room off the one in my hand and set that one down on the bedside table. The lamp there decided to cooperate with me for once and it turned on when I asked it.

"What's with the candles?" Murphy wondered, finally.

"Uh...they're pretty," I answered, with confidence.

She rolled her eyes. She approached us to speak with Graylin. "Is it ok if you come get washed up, sweetie?" She was using her 'mother' voice again. It kinda freaked me out. "Then you can go to sleep, okay?"

"I guess so," Graylin replied, rubbing an eye irritably.

"I'll be right out here," I promised.

I handed her off to Murphy and they went into the bathroom. The lights worked for them in there too. I tried to remember the procedure for putting a kid to bed. I had been a kid once and my Dad used to tuck me in. It was a very long time ago. I pulled down the covers a bit.

"Dresden?" Murphy called.

"Yeah?"

"You got a t-shirt or somethin' she could sleep in?"

"I'll check."

I rummaged around in a drawer until I found a clean T-shirt with a non-offensive logo or slogan on it. I knocked on the door and Murphy took it from me, then closed it again.

A minute later, the door opened and Murphy came out. She shut the door behind her and shortly after that Graylin emerged on her own. My T-shirt hung down past her knees and looked awkward, but fairly comfy on her. Her face and hands were clean and it looked like Murphy had run a brush through her hair. Murphy scooted her to the bed and Graylin climbed into it. She looked very small to be in my big bed, like it might swallow her up if we didn't watch out for her. Murphy fluffed the pillows a bit and Graylin settled onto to them. She looked over to me.

"You gonna stay, right?" She asked, nervously.

"You bet," I assured her.

"You too?" She asked Murphy.

"Yep," Murphy said, with a smile.

"Don't turn off the light, kay?" she requested.

"'Kay," Murphy and I agreed.

"Okay," she nodded to herself. "I'm gonna go to sleep now."

Both Murphy and I nodded back to her. Murphy pulled the chair I normally use to hold my clothes up to Graylin's side of the bed and there was more than enough room for me to perch on the other side without disturbing her. She opened her eyes a few times to make sure we were still there but eventually her breath became even and she drifted off.

"Jesus Christ," Murphy muttered, under her breath.

Her whole face had changed to show how upset and how tired she was. She only ever let me see that side of her, the human side, on very rare occasions and I always took it as a sign that things were bad.

"You okay?" I whispered.

"I am, yeah," she replied. She jerked her head towards Graylin. "She's not. The problem's not. It's disgusting. No matter what I do, if I catch the bastard who killed her mother, I can't make it better. She's still gonna be dead. I hate that about my job."

"I know what you mean," I said.

She looked sort of surprised. "Yeah, I guess you would. Huh." She shook her head. "Anyway, it's terrible. It's the kinda thing you worry about, you know? What if I get shot one day on the job and I'm gone? What happens to Anna? I mean, she has her father still but..."

"A father isn't a mother," I filled in. There was a bit of a pang in my heart that I pushed away. "A kid deserves both." Or any.

She nodded silently and we both watched Graylin sleep for several moments. She looked blank, not really troubled but not peaceful either. The pang in my heart crept back in again. I rubbed my chest uncomfortably.

"Where do we go from here?" I asked.

"In the morning we'll have some of the autopsy results back and we'll see what that gives us. Kirmani's taking a team through the apartment tonight, to make sure nothing's disturbed. I'll go through it in more detail in the morning. Graylin might remember more details too, when it isn't fresh. We're looking for next of kin." Murphy had been speaking towards Graylin's direction and she now slid her eyes to look at me, somewhat mischievously. "And, you know, if you wanna do that voodoo stuff you do, I wouldn't object."

I grinned. "I thought you didn't believe in 'that stuff', Murph?"

"I don't, but whatever you do works," she said, simply. "I can't explain it and it drives me kinda nuts, but you get me results. I have no arguments with that."

"Remember that the next time you want to slap me," I requested. She chuckled softly. "Do you wanna lie down? I have a couch...I can stay here."

"No, I'm fine. I'm used to no sleep," she said, off-handedly. "You can, though."

I opened my mouth to object, but then thought better of it. I could get a head start on my 'that stuff' without Murphy asking too many questions of me. Afterwards, depending on what I found out and how bad it was, I might crash for a few hours. I was used to no sleep too.

"Okay," I agreed. "You take first watch. Come get me if you need me."

"I will. Thank you, Harry."

I had been about to go and paused to look back at her. "For what?"

This made her laugh for some reason and she shooed me away with one of her hands. "For being you. Go."

* * *

I grabbed a pillow and blanket from the closet on the pretense of heading to the couch, but dropped them off and moved on to the lab. I'd hoped Bob would be up, but he had already gone into his skull and I had to call him out.

"Good date?" he asked, when he saw me.

"No," I replied.

"Sorry," he said, sympathetically. "Are we doing alchemy, then?"

Usually when things didn't go well in my life, I liked to make potions. It took the edge off and potions work best when you make them with feeling. Despair and hopelessness worked as good as any other feelings. I had Bob with me to remember ingredients and generally make sure I didn't blow myself up.

"No. There's a girl in my room," I explained, pointing at the ceiling.

"There often is," he snarked. "I thought you said it was a bad date."

"It's a little girl," I clarified, holding my hand by my hip to indicate her littleness. He raised an eyebrow. "Eww! God no, not like that. It's a long story. Murphy's there too."

"Lt. Murphy is in your bed?" Bob asked, apparently highly amused by this thought.

"Actually, she's beside it," I said, irritably.

"Fascinating." He raised an expectant eyebrow at me.

I explained about my evening, which took quite a long time and he listened with attentiveness. You don't generally apply 'attentive' as an adjective for a ghost, but Bob was a patient guy. I guess if you're going to live vicariously through someone, I'd be a pretty exciting person to chose. I foolishly endanger myself on a daily basis.

"And so I brought her back here," I finished up.

"Of course you did," Bob replied. "It's only natural you would feel for the girl, after what happened to your father. You have a weakness for affairs of family."

I dismissed this comment with a 'pfft' and wave of my hand, even though I knew it was true. I hate seeing a family broken up. My family has always been unconventional. There was my dad, who was well-intentioned, but kinda hopeless, my uncle, who was evil and Bob, who was a ghost. Not exactly normal.

"So, that ring any bells?" I asked, changing the subject. "Anything stand out to you?"

"This Grace-lynn child - "

"Graylin."

"Graylin. She said it was a wizard who attacked them?"

I nodded. "Yeah, but it was dark and she's five. It could have been something in disguise, or she could have seen something vaguely human and just assumed. It's the eye thing that weirded me out. D'jou know of anything that causes that? A demon or...something?"

"I'd have to do some research," Bob said, thoughtfully. "This forensic person thought it might be drugs, you said. You don't think that's a possibility?"

"Oh, it's a possibility. But, okay, Tamsin could have only been 16 or 17 when Graylin was born," I explained. "The restaurant staff says Graylin's father isn't around. She had to go work with her mom every night, so I'm guessing the grandparents aren't helping either. Tamsin probably didn't finish highschool and she's stuck waiting tables. If you worked that hard and cared that much about your kid, would you screw it up with drugs?"

"People do many inscrutable things when they are suffering from an addiction, Harry," Bob said. There was a look on his face that told me there was more than opinion behind the statement, but I knew better than to inquire. "Human behaviour is rarely logical."

"Alright," I conceded. "But, for the sake of the argument, let's say it wasn't drugs. What else could it be?"

"Off the top of my head, I'd suggest she could have been in the midst of some sort of vision, or suffering from poisoning, or enthralled," Bob rattled off.

"Vampire enthralled?" I wondered.

"No, most likely from a spell," he corrected.

"That's illegal."

"So is murder."

"Touché."

There was a knock at the door. Bob and I exchanged worried glances of 'what now?'. At two AM, visitors were never good. I called my hockey stick to me and went to investigate. The knocking was more of pounding, I discovered, as I opened the heavy door of the lab. It was coming from the back. I hurried to it before it woke up Graylin or stirred Murphy to investigate.

"Oh, c'mon!" I groaned, when the knocker's face came into view. I opened the door. "What did I do this time?"

Warden Morgan glared back at me with an impassive face of stone. He didn't have his sword out in the open, which was a good sign. I wasn't in the mood to be beheaded.

"I want the girl," he stated. One thing you can say for Morgan, he gets to the point. "You are harbouring her."

"She's not a fugitive," I said. "You can't arrest me for harbouring a bystander. One that you can't have, by the way. How'd you even know she was here?"

"We have been keeping eye on the mother," Morgan explained. "She and the girl are important to us."

I fought down a rush of anger. The Royal 'we'. The council. Bunch of very powerful, very ruthless and very annoying wizards who keep things running smoothly in the magic world. Or at least, in theory. We generally didn't see eye-to-eye, me and the council.

"And where exactly were you tonight, when Tamsin Cartwright was getting murdered?" I demanded, sharply.

"There were other matters to attend to," Morgan replied, looking uncomfortable. "A large shipment of Third Eye was discovered on the other side of the city. It required several of our resources."

"Are you telling me that you let a woman get murdered just so you could stop some vampires from getting high?" I said, unable to keep my temper. "Jesus Christ, Morgan! Tamsin was all that girl had!"

"Which is why it is important that the girl be placed under the council's protection," Morgan said, calmly.

"The council that let her mother die," I snapped. "That really seem like a good idea to you?"

"Dresden..."

"No."

He calmly smashed the door into me, pushing me back and slid through the gap. He set a quick pace for the stairs. I had to take a second to catch my breath. The door knob had hit me right in the gut. I ran after him.

"You self-righteous son of a bitch," I shouted at his back. I slammed my hockey stick across the stairs before he could climb them, blocking his path. "Get the hell out of my house."

"Don't be an idiot, Dresden," he hissed, unmoving. "Your standing with the council is shaky at best, do you really want to bring down their wrath?"

I snorted. "No different from any other day of the week. The girl stays with me. There is a cop up there, by the way, a civilian cop. You gonna explain to her why you've come to take her witness away?"

"I have no need to explain myself to any authority other than the council."

"She won't like that." I smirked. "She might shoot you. I might let her."

Morgan was unimpressed. "Remove your staff, Wizard Dresden, or I will break it."

"Oh, don't 'Wizard Dresden' me," I snapped. "Go f-"

Morgan grabbed a hold of the shaft with a sudden movement and I felt it heat up in my hands. I was forced to let go before my palms burned. It clattered to the floor and Morgan marched up the stairs. I followed him, making a grab for his coat but before I could get him, he slammed into me backwards and I had to retreat a few stairs to keep my balance.

He reversed direction and stepped forward, only to bounce backwards again. He put his hand out tentatively and pressed his palm against the air a few times.

"Take it down," he demanded, whipping his head around to glare at me.

"Take what down?" I said, confused.

"The barrier."

"What barrier?"

"Dresden, I'm warning you..."

"What barrier?" I repeated, slowly. "I'm not doing anything."

He tried to press forward again, but just bounced back. Curious, I pushed past him and was easily able to climb the step that stopped him. He made an angry sound and smashed his fist against the air.

"Look, Morgan," I said. "I don't know what's going on. Either you're a very good mime, or there's someone or something else in here who doesn't want you taking Graylin." I leaned forward to be just out of his reach. "I'd take it as a sign. Get out of my house, now."

I think he would have cursed me if the spells wouldn't have bounced off the supposed shield. He glared at me for a minute, maybe deciding whether I was worth the effort. Apparently I wasn't. He turned and stalked down the stairs. I followed a few steps behind, ready in case he rounded on me again. I picked up my hockey stick as I passed and shadowed him to the door.

"The council will not be pleased, Dresden," He growled, turning back."You push your luck."

"Yeah, yeah. I'll live to regret this, I hope I can sleep with one eye open, watch my back, you'll get me and my little dog too," I rattled off, herding him out the door. "Save your breath for your spells."

I closed the door in his face and locked it, making sure all the sigils were still in place.

"That wasn't wise, Harry," Bob said.

"Don't start, Bob," I snapped. "Do you think she's better off with them?"

"I think you are better off if she is with them," He replied. I stared at him and he shifted a bit. "But she is better off with you, I should think."

I nodded to myself and moved my mind onto other weirdness. "Did you put that barrier up?"

"You know it would be impossible for me to do so."

"Yeah, just checking. What the hell was it, then?"

"Perhaps, if the girl is as important as Morgan believes, she was able to do it herself."

"She's asleep. And five."

Bob shrugged slightly. "Not everyone is as late in their magical development as you were, Harry."

I glared at him, then started to laugh. "Thanks, Bob."

I went back upstairs, Bob following me. I jumped over the stair that tripped up Morgan a few times to see if I could figure out what was going on. I felt around for magic or resistance or anything that indicated there was a shield.

"There's nothing here," I decided, after a few minutes. "What the hell was Morgan on about?"

"Perhaps the barrier is no longer in place," Bob suggested.

"Oh yeah, one of those traveling barriers you hear about all the time. Come in, protect your guests and run away again before you can even give them a thank you."

Bob sighed and rolled his eyes. I shrugged, too tired to dwell on it all any more for the moment. I opened the door to my bedroom and peered in to check my guests. Both occupants were asleep despite the noise, Murphy with her chin fallen to her chest. I have heavy doors in my house. You never know when someone is going to try to break through them. Bob looked over my shoulder. I instinctively tried to push him back, but of course my elbow just went into his stomach. I shivered and shooed at him. He adopted a hurt expression and headed back downstairs. I closed the door behind me and followed.

"Is the girl wearing your pentacle?" Bob inquired, when we'd hit the main floor again.

"Yeah, I gave it to her to calm her down," I confirmed. "Why?"

"Well, from your description of the knot she wears, I suspect the combination of the two amulets could have put up the shield. The knot acts as protection and the pentacle would amplify the power."

"Ha!" I said. "She's not a magical genius."

Bob rolled his eyes. "Yes, Harry, you are quite possibly more talented than a five year old girl." He wandered away from me. "Bravo."

I grinned at his back and tried to decide what to do next. I could grill Bob some more, but he'd probably be better off stewing on his own for awhile. I could go lie down for a bit. Things seemed to be calm again for the moment.

Then Graylin started screaming.


	4. Night Terror

**Title:** Child's Play  
**Spoilers:** None in this chapter  
**Summary:** Harry's latest case is uncomfortably familiar and starts him on another quixotic crusade. The only trouble is, how do you stop a killer when you're stuck baby-sitting?  
**Disclaimer: **Harry's world does not belong to me. It belongs to Jim Butcher and SciFi. I merely frolic around merrily in it.

* * *

It wasn't just whimpering, or shrieking, but blood-curdling, terrified screaming. What the hell was going on now? I bounded up the stairs two at a time and burst into my room, ready to throw myself in front of whatever monster was trying to eat her or Murphy. There was nothing there, though. Just Murphy, looking as frightened as I was, gun drawn and up by her shoulder in readiness, and Graylin screaming her head off.

"What's wrong?" I demanded. I ducked as Murphy's gun was leveled at me, the only moving target in the room. I threw a little Will into my shield bracelet, just in case she got trigger happy.

"God! Don't do that, Dresden," she gasped, lowering the weapon.

Graylin climbed out of bed and began to scoot across the floor on her butt, backwards towards the corner of the room. Her eyes were wide with terror and she seemed to be staring at something only she could see. She looked possessed. I started towards her.

"Harry, wait," Murphy interrupted. She crawled across the bed to get a closer look. "I think she's having a night terror."

"A what?"

"It's like a nightmare," Murphy explained. "But you can't wake up from it."

That did nothing to lessen my panic. "What do we do?"

"Don't try to wake her up, or tell her she's just dreaming or not to be scared. Just tell her you're here and you're going to look after her. Try to get her to fall asleep again."

"I thought she was asleep!"

"Yeah, but she doesn't know that. Oh, and put down the hockey stick. I don't think it'll help."

"Oh, right."

I dropped my staff, swallowed and took a step closer to Graylin, who was now in the corner, curled up like when I first found her and whimpering. "Maybe you should do it."

"She likes you more than me," Murphy insisted. "You'll be more comforting." I hesitated. "Harry, just do it!"

I knelt nearby. "Graylin. Uh...it's Harry." I got no response. "I'm here, okay? I'm right next to you and I'm not going to let anything happen to you." I glanced back at Murphy who nodded encouragingly at me. "I know you're scared but I'm keeping you safe. You're safe with me."

I reached out and she let me take her hand. She was shaking and still staring through me, but she seemed more calm. I slid a little closer to her and rubbed her shoulder. After about a minute, she started to relax and then a few minutes after that, she just curled up in a ball and fell asleep again, right there on the floor.

"You can put her back in bed now, Harry," Murphy said.

I took a few deep breaths to calm my heart and scooped the girl up. I carried her over to the bed and Murphy tucked her in again. Rubbing my sweaty palms on my jeans, I Looked around the room to make sure there really wasn't anything there that was harming her.

"You alright?" Murphy asked. She looked amused.

"Yeah," I said, quickly. "I'm fine. How'd you know what to do?"

"My daughter had them for a few months, when her dad and I were divorcing," She explained. "Kids get'm. They're brought on by emotional stress or being overtired. It's sort of like sleepwalking. She won't remember having it."

I sat down on the bed, feeling calmer as Murphy explained it a bit more. "I've seen a lot of weird shit, Murph. That was scary as hell. She looked terrified."

"Yeah, the first time Anna had one it scared me to death," Murphy admitted. "And you can't reason with them. It's like, if you were face to face with the thing that scares you the most and somebody was telling you that it wasn't real, would you believe them?"

"Probably not," I said. I didn't add that I face things that scare me the most quite regularly. Nobody ever tells me _I'm_ safe.

"Why did you bring the hockey stick?" She asked. I realized that was the source of her amusement, much more than my inept child-handling skills.

"I could have hit something with it," I defended myself, scratching my head uncomfortably. "I happen to have a very good slapshot."

"I can't picture you on skates," she said. "Do you really play?"

"It's been awhile," I admitted. "But I'll show you sometime, I think I still have a pair around here somewhere."

"You know I'd kick your ass," she said, with a smug smile.

"You're on," I said. She grinned and then yawned, loudly. "You want me to take watch?"

"I'm fine," she said, automatically.

"Well I'm fine too," I countered. "So you can either go down to my couch and sleep or sit here all night with me staring at you." I widened my eyes and gave her my best wizardly stare.

"Please, anything but that," she laughed. I continued to stare. "Alright, alright, _Mom_."

I grinned and she stood up, stretching her arms over her head with another yawn.

"Hey, I thought I heard something before...like voices and crashing," she said, thoughtfully.

"You were asleep," I lied. "I checked on you a few minutes ago. You must have been dreaming."

She pursed her lips, looking suspicious, but nodded. "Guess so. 'Night Harry," she mumbled, heading for the door.

"Night, Murph."

I got up and made sure she went where she was supposed to go. She did. Bob peeked curiously around the corner after Murphy closed her eyes and I waved him off, indicating it was all okay. I closed the door again and moved to the abandoned chair by the bed. Graylin was curled up in a ball now, fast asleep again. I shivered at the memory of the night terror and sat down, taking up my vigil.

* * *

Graylin woke up twice more before the sun rose, with regular nightmares. She fell back asleep again quickly, each time moving closer to the edge of the bed where I was. Between fits I read or dozed lightly in the chair, until Murphy came in around 5:30 and took my spot. I crashed on the couch very briefly, then the paper hit the door at six and woke me up again. I gave up on sleeping and retrieved it, then turned the coffee maker on.

Murphy came down fifteen minutes later, sniffing. She looked about as beat as I felt. We didn't talk. I served the coffee and we split the paper. Once we had caffeine in our systems, our tongues started to work again.

"There's a black and white outside, plus a regular patrol around the building," Murphy told me. "I'm leaving it in place for today. I've called it in already. I'm going to head in and see what Kirmani came up with. I'll call you if anything important turns up. Neither of you leave here until I tell you otherwise, okay?"

"How am I supposed to help if I'm stuck here?" I objected.

"I agreed to hand Graylin over to you," Murphy reminded me. "That means you have to look after her."

"I know, but -"

"You insisted on it, so you have to follow through. She stays here and you stay here."

"But - "

"I know you, Harry. You'll try and slip out with one of your little magic tricks. You probably have a freakin' secret passage in the floor or something. You stay right here, or I will hold you in contempt of court."

"There was a court?"

"I'll find a court," she snapped. She pointed at me. "Stay."

"Okay!" I said, grumpily. "Jeez."

Her mouth twitched briefly, but settled back into a hard line again. "No disappearing acts, Houdini."

I stuck my tongue out at her. She stuck her tongue out back. Then we both started to laugh. We were in that kind of mood.

Graylin woke up shortly after Murphy left. Her eyes had dark circles under them. She looked half-dead and it was a horrible thing to see that kind of pain on a 5 year old girl. She patted down the stairs carefully and found me where Murphy had left me. She didn't say anything, just climbed into my lap and rested her head on my chest. I really didn't know what to do about it, so I kept reading the newspaper and she seemed fine with that.

"You want breakfast?" I asked, after I'd put away the last section.

She shook her head, and I really didn't blame her. I didn't feel much like eating myself and I wasn't the one whose mother had been killed the night before. I convinced her to down some orange juice. She sipped feebly at it.

"Where's the police lady?" she wondered.

"She went to work," I explained. "But there's lots of police people outside, so we're safe here, okay?"

She nodded. "Is she going to find the bad guy?"

"She's gonna try real hard. She's really good at that, too."

"Not as good as you."

I was a bit confused. "Why's that?"

"Dunno, but she said you was really good at findin' people," Graylin said, solemnly. She sipped at her juice. "On her phone, I heard her."

Well, well. I smiled at this development, feeling quite proud of myself. My smile faded as I remembered I was still stuck at home unable to do anything useful. It wasn't that I minded staying with Graylin, I was fully in what Bob would call my 'hominum salvator' mode. I think that's Latin for 'pain in the ass'. But any little cop-duck could have looked after her. I was the only one who could find something in that alley to track down whoever killed her mother. Instead, I was on house arrest and the only thing that I had of benefit was...hmmm...

"Graylin," I said, slowly. "Would you let me look into your head?"

She squinted one eye at me. "I dunno. How?"

I wiggled my eyebrows. "A little magic."


	5. Memoria

**Title:** Child's Play  
**Spoilers:** None in this chapter  
**Summary:** Harry's latest case is uncomfortably familiar and starts him on another quixotic crusade. The only trouble is, how do you stop a killer when you're stuck baby-sitting?  
**Disclaimer: **Harry's world does not belong to me. It belongs to Jim Butcher and SciFi. I merely frolic around merrily in it.

* * *

After she'd finished her juice, I brought Graylin to the lab with me. I picked her up and set her down on the table to be at my level. She watched me move around the room, gathering what I needed and her legs swung restlessly to and fro off the edge of the table.

"Alright, I'm gonna do a little spell," I explained further, when I had what I needed. "That's gonna let me see what you saw last night. It won't hurt, but it make might you feel a bit dizzy. If you want me to stop, you just give me a kick, okay?"

She nodded.

"Hey, Bob?" I called. I added to Graylin, "Bob's a friend of mine."

There was a brief flash of light beside me as Bob manifested himself. Graylin gripped my sleeve in surprise. My mouth opened to explain to Graylin what was going on, but she beat me to the chase.

"Are you a ghost?" She asked him, curiously.

"Yes," Bob replied, with a prim nod. After a moment's hesitation, he asked, "Is that alright?"

"I think so." She released my sleeve.

"Good," I interrupted. "Graylin, Bob, Bob, Graylin. I'm gonna perform the Memoria spell, Bob. Can you spot me?"

"I can," Bob agreed, after a moment's consideration. He thankfully spared me the 'that is a dangerous spell, Harry' speech. "But what do you intend me to do if you go too far? I can hardly pull you back."

"I'm sure the sound of your dulcet tones will snap me right out of it," I said, with a smile.

He sniffed and I smirked to myself, then held up my prepared vial of Magic Goo (a technical term) to Graylin's nose.

"Smell this, please," I requested.

She wrinkled her nose, but gave it a good sniff. I did the same, inhaling the mixture of passion flower, thyme, yarrow and various other herbs that increased psychic ability and connection.

"I'm gonna take that back," I said, pointing to my pentacle necklace. "Is that cool?"

"S'cool," she agreed.

I switched it from around her neck to around mine and it was comforting to have it back there. I rubbed my hands together until they were hot and then placed them on her temples and looked her in the eyes. Her pupils were starting to dilate from the mixture now. I concentrated hard on them and breathed in and out slowly.

"Just relax," I coaxed Graylin, softly. "And try to remember what you were doing last night, before you went out in the alley. Here we go. I want you to take a deep breath, like you're gonna blow out candles on your birthday cake."

She inhaled and looked at me expectantly.

"Alright, blow them out," I commanded.

She did and with her breath came a puff of smoke. Wisps of memory. I inhaled the smoke and got a tingly sensation in the back of my brain as it adjusted to find a spot for the new memories to fit.

"Harry?" She questioned, nervously.

"It's okay," I soothed. "This is gonna look scary, but it's not. I'll be fine."

I dropped my hands from her head and stepped back from her. With another deep breath, I muttered some magic words and the pupils and irises of my eyes faded to white. I couldn't see that, of course, but that's what's supposed to happen. Bob muttered some words of reassurance to Graylin while I adjusted to the view. My image of the room faded away and was replaced with a busy kitchen. A myriad of delicious smells filled my nose, but in a background way. Obviously I was used to them, or Graylin was.

This spell is a tricky one. Memories are personal, intimate things. After you manage to transfer the memories to your own head, you become their owner for as long as you look at them. You think and feel what they thought and felt and you see the world the way they see it. If you stay too long, you can forget who you are and it gets harder and harder to come back. That's why I wanted Bob there, so he could bring me back if I started to go in too deep.

The kitchen was noisy, but not annoyingly so. There was a colouring book in front of me to which I was carefully adding blue with a marker. I looked up and over to the double doors as they swung open, and Tamsin entered. She was carrying a tray of dirty dishes in her crooked elbow and skillfully set it down on a counter, where it was set on by a man whose name, Graylin's memory informed me, was Jason. It also informed me that it was highly likely that Jason wanted to kiss Tamsin. She looked my way and smiled, holding up a finger to indicate a minute. I looked up at the clock, where the big hand was near the seven and the little hand was on the eight. Almost break time.

Tamsin was given another tray full of food and she left the kitchen again. The memory twitched a little here and jumped ahead by an unidentifiable amount of time. Memories are rarely retained in perfect condition. I'd moved from the little table to the door to the alley in an unnatural way. I, Harry, was disoriented by the fact that I, Graylin, saw the world at the level of my (Harry's) hips and I had to adjust. I was pressing the bar on the door, with Tamsin's hands helping. A blast of cool air hit me, which was nice after the heat of the kitchen. I skipped ahead of Tamsin and twirled in the cool air. The door closed behind us and the alley was quiet, just the two of us. This was my favourite time of day.

Alive, Tamsin was something else. She wasn't beautiful, but she was pretty in the all the right ways and her eyes had something nice to them, some sort of spark that made you want to look into them. She looked at me, or rather Graylin, with a mother's love that I vaguely remember seeing at one time. My mother died when I was young and my memories of her are worn.

The memory jumped again. Tamsin blurred out and then appeared in front of me. I was suddenly nervous, because she was, and I looked up the alley towards the street. There was a shadow moving quickly towards me and Tamsin's hand reached to the front pocket of her shirt, pulling out a long, elegant pen. 'The magic pen'.

"What's wrong?" I asked her, tugging on the belt of her jeans.

I was pushed back protectively behind her and she stepped forward towards the shadow. There was a flash of light from the shadow and I gasped in surprise. The flash hit Tamsin in the chest, but was deflected somehow. I'd never seen anyone else do what Tamsin could. I'd never met another wizard.

"Don't be stupid, Tamsin," the shadow said.

He was edging towards the light over the door now and becoming more clear. He had a long coat on and held something out in front of him. A knife with a fancy handle. I held onto Tamsin's belt in fear.

"Just go," Tamsin ordered in a firm voice. "You won't get what you want."

The shadow man was in the light now, fully. I could see his handsome face, which was set in a smirk. He held his arms out wide to the sides as he approached. A challenge for Tamsin to attack, a sign he didn't consider her a threat. He advanced and Tamsin started to retreat towards the back of the alley. I, still holding onto her belt, was forced to retreat with her. I was scared, but confident that Tamsin could make everything alright. She always did.

"I'm sick of these games," the shadow man said, in an almost pleasant voice. It had a deep resonance to it that made it sound warm, even if his face was cold. "I'm not playing anymore. Give me the girl and it'll all be over."

He easily pushed off the blast from Tamsin's pen, as though flicking away a bug. The next blast caught him off guard, however, and cut a long gash in his cheek. He cursed and any hint of charm fell from his face. He was cold now, frighteningly so. I started to whimper.

"Last chance, Tamsin," the shadow man warned again, no mercy left in his tone.

Tamsin's chin rose upwards defiantly, with all the ferociousness of a mother, and her pen started to spark. His knife did as well. Two balls of light collided in mid air and fought each other between them. Her golden light pressed back against his dark blue light, but his started to move towards her. Both wizards looked strained, both just as determined to win.

Magic can go funny when mixed with itself, like combining the wrong chemicals and finding your lab covered in green foam. The two bursts of light mixed the wrong way now and they refracted back. Both wizards were knocked backwards, hard. Tamsin hit the wall with a crack to her head and went down, unconscious. Her necklace fell beside her, the chain broken. I screamed and ran over to her, trying to shake her awake. When I couldn't, I ran for the door and pulled on it. It was heavy and took a lot of effort to get it to move on my own. It had only budged a few inches when it was slammed shut again and I whirled around to find the shadow with his knife pointed at it. He was in a heap of garbage bags and slowly rose, brushing himself off. He blocked the way to the street and the only way that I could move was back.

"C'mon Graylin," he coaxed. His voice had the warm tone to it again. It was made to be soothing and hypnotic. "Don't be scared, I don't want to hurt you."

"You're a liar!" I declared, in a 'duh' tone of voice. I wasn't I that /i stupid. I backed towards the dead end, away from him.

"I'm not," he insisted.

Whatever else was exchanged between them wasn't shown to me as the memory jumped again. I was now pressed against the wall as closely as I could, while he was getting closer and closer. He was calm and collected, so very cold and terrifying. I could hardly breathe.

"Shhh," he hushed my whimpers, in a soothing way. "It's alright."

I might have believed him, his voice was that hypnotic. Except for the look in his dark grey eyes, that frigid determination. This was a very bad man. If he hadn't done anything to me, if I just saw him passing down the road, I still would have known that.

He outstretched his hand towards me and I shook. I closed my eyes and waited to be grabbed or hurt or whatever he wanted to do. Instead, I heard him hiss and I opened my eyes again to see him shaking his hand like he'd been burned. He reached again, but his hand bounced back and he hissed again.

"Shit!" he exclaimed, loudly. He was furious now. "Take off the necklace."

"Don't," Tamsin's voice called.

The man whirled around in surprise. I looked past him, somehow not as surprised to see Tamsin back on her feet with her pen held out in front of her. I saw an opportunity and darted around the shadow man, using his surprise to my advantage. I sprinted to Tamsin and threw my arms around her waist. She was shaking. I thought that she must be scared too. That was the most terrifying thing. Tamsin wasn't afraid of anything. Not thunderstorms or the dark or Mrs. Yannick's dog. Not anything.

"You don't ever take off that necklace, alright?" Tamsin whispered to me.

"Uh-huh," I agreed.

"You stupid bitch!" Shadowman growled, furiously. He seemed to transform with anger into some fiery demon. He grew older and uglier. And taller. "I don't have any patience left for you!"

He jabbed his knife at her and she jolted as if he'd stabbed her. She winced in pain and narrowed her eyes, sending a spell at him. It only knocked him back a few steps. He was too angry. She groaned and clutched her head. Her eyes turned milky white.

"Mommy!" I yelled at her. I turned to him, furious. "Stop it! Stop it!"

Tamsin seemed to be struggling with an unseen force. She twitched and groaned. She fell onto her knees, taking me with her. I scraped my knee hard on the ground. She pushed me away and I fought to keep a hold of her, yelling at her to stop. She fell onto her side and rolled onto her back. Her eyes stared blankly upwards and she simply stopped breathing. I shook her violently, but she didn't move.

"Harry!" The world split in front of me, scratching parts of the lab into it. "Harry!" Bob's voice.

I was on the floor. Bob was crouching by me, doing his best to get my attention.

"Harry!" He called very loudly, into my ear.

"Ow, I'm back, I'm back!" I said, wincing.

I was on my knees, where I would have been in the alley and I felt terrified. My hand shook where it hovered in mid-air, grasping at an invisible Tamsin in front of me. I'd begun to think of her as 'Mommy' near the end and I didn't know how long I'd been acting out the scene. I felt like I was going to throw up.

"Are you alright?" Bob asked, in a normal voice.

"No," I said. I looked up at Graylin, who looked about as scared as I felt.

"I'm sorry," she said, fearfully. "I made you sad. I'm sorry."

"Hey, no, it's not your fault," I quickly said, getting to my feet. My legs felt like rubber. "I'm sorry, sweetheart, I didn't mean to scare you."

"I'm not...I'm not scared," she insisted. But her hand reached out grasped my thumb tightly. She shook her head as though disagreeing with herself. "I'm very scared, Harry." Then, for the first time since I'd met her, she started to cry.


	6. Exhaustion

**Title:** Child's Play  
**Spoilers:** None in this chapter  
**Summary:** Harry's latest case is uncomfortably familiar and starts him on another quixotic crusade. The only trouble is, how do you stop a killer when you're stuck baby-sitting?  
**Disclaimer: **Harry's world does not belong to me. It belongs to Jim Butcher and SciFi. I merely frolic around merrily in it.

* * *

I knew that it was good that Graylin was crying, she had to get it out of her system. It didn't make me feel like any less of a jerk, though. I hugged her tight and she sobbed into my chest for a very long time. Or it might have just felt like a long time. I didn't know what to do except hug and rub her back. Bob quickly disappeared into his skull – lucky him. The number of times I wish I had a disembodied skull to disappear into...

When her sobs had finally calmed down to hiccups, she was understandably exhausted. I was exhausted just looking at her. The hardest part of all this was knowing how she felt. I couldn't remember much of my mom's death, but I'd had a good six years on her when my father died and I remembered how much that messed me up. I couldn't imagine dealing with it at five.

"Why don't you lie down, sweetheart?" I suggested.

"I don'hup wanna hupdream," she explained, which made my already shattered heart break into two or three more pieces. "Hup."

"I can help," I said. I released her and made sure she wasn't going to tumble off the table, then went over to my shelf o' potions and found the right bottle. "I can make you sleep, okay?" I slipped it into my pocket and lifted her up again.

She nodded an assent and rested her head on my shoulder as I carried her over to the kitchen. I set her down on the counter and poured her a glass of milk, dropping a few drops of the potion in it. She sipped at it while I wet a cloth with warm water and cleaned her face.

"You do pretty good," she said.

"Yeah?" I said. "At what?"

"Playin' Daddy," she replied, sleepily.

I felt my cheeks burn at this comment and quickly side-stepped it. "You ready to lie down?"

A yawn. "Yeah."

I carried her upstairs and put her to bed. As an afterthought, I dug around in the back of my closet and retrieved a stuffed bunny that an old girlfriend had given me for Valentine's Day years earlier. He had a name like 'Mr. Fluffy' or 'Snuggles' or something sugary like that and had been tossed back there after we broke up. Apparently I keep too many secrets for a successful relationship. I dusted him off and offered him to Graylin, who accepted him readily and tucked him under her arm. The potion had her snoring in a few minutes and I left her to it, after quickly swapping my tear-stained shirt for something dryer.

I returned to the lab and sat down at the table, letting my forehead fall to it in exhaustion. I felt like total crap. I hadn't slept, my guilt meter was reaching critical and I'd just watched and felt a little girl's mother get murdered. Not my best day ever. Bob peeked out of his skull once he thought the coast was clear and I could see him hovering nearby in my peripheral vision.

"This sucks," I said, muffled by the table.

He nodded, looking at me with concern. "You shouldn't do this to yourself, Harry. You had nothing to do with what happened."

"No, but I'm the only one who can make sure that bastard gets caught and put away. He just took over her brain, Bob. She tried to fight it but he made her stop breathing. He made her tell her body to lie down and die. What kinda sicko does that?"

I went on to explain what else I had seen in Graylin's memory. It was already starting to fade away, my mind rejecting it as being unable to be mine. I still had the memory of the memory though. Hey, I don't make the rules.

Bob frowned and thought for a few moments when I was finished. "It takes a very powerful wizard to exert that kind of control over someone. A very dark wizard, sure in his purpose. He would need a connection her too. You can't enter the mind of a stranger like that, with that much ease. Her mind would have to trust him on some level. Probably very subconsciously."

"You think he knew her well then," I summed up. "She didn't seem to like him much."

"I don't suppose attempting to kidnap one's daughter promotes good relations."

"No. So, what, an old friend?"

"Or lover. Lovers inspire very strong feelings of love and hate. You can use those emotions in magic, you know that."

I think I could actually hear the 'click' in my brain. I raised my head from the table fast enough to make Bob jump back. It's nice to know you can still scare a ghost sometimes.

"Her father."

"Tamsin's father?"

"No, Graylin's father."

"That's a large leap in logic."

I thought back to the figure from Graylin's memory. "He has the same eyes as her."

Bob reluctantly jumped on my train of thought. "Well, that would certainly work, I suppose. An old love, plus blood ties to the girl. A very powerful combination."

"What does he want her for?" I wondered, getting up to pace. "I mean, if you're looking for a family reunion, killing the mother of your child isn't the best way to start things off."

"There are plenty of rituals requiring the blood of kin," Bob replied. He paced the opposite way to me, passing by me in the other direction. "Or merely someone to whom one has a great bond. Physical bonds are as strong as emotional ones, if not stronger."

"And why didn't he take her in the end, after Tamsin was dead?" I continued. "It was a lot of effort to go through to give up at your moment of victory."

"Perhaps he was unable to touch her," Bob suggested. "Just as Morgan was unable to reach her because of the shield knot."

"Tamsin told her not to take it off," I agreed. Then I shook my head. "But if the point of it is to keep people away from her, how come I don't count? She isn't shielded from me."

"Your intent was to help," Bob said. "Altruism. You weren't a threat to her well-being."

"Her necklace can sense that?" I was skeptical.

"A charm like that can be very powerful, Harry. A mother's will to protect her child is a potent force," Bob gestured to my arm. "Look your bracelet. Do you think it would have half the strength it does if it hadn't been imbued by your mother to protect you?"

I slumped back onto the stool, considering this. "Okay...So, he can't touch her because of the necklace. Still, he doesn't seem the sort to give up easily. He's been after her for months."

"You did not finish the memory," Bob reminded me. "Any number of things could have happened that forced him to flee. Besides, Graylin felt his presence at the scene later. He was most likely waiting for another opportunity to strike."

I wasn't convinced, but I didn't have anymore arguments in me. I spun a beaker absently on the table, thinking. My brain was very tired to be thinking this hard and it wasn't going well. It kept circling back to 'sleep' and 'bed' and 'pajamas'. I yawned and my eyes watered, blurring Bob's image in front of me. He'd folded his arms across his chest and I knew I was about to be ordered.

"Perhaps you should take a nap yourself, Harry," he ordered. "If you can't think, you aren't any use. I'll think, and research while you rest and if I find anything, I'll wake you up."

I wanted to protest, but my brain quickly turned my argument into 'cozy couch' and I just nodded instead. "Alright. Thanks, Bob."

He tipped his head in a gesture I took to be 'you're welcome' and turned his back to me, already set on his task. I got up, feeling heavy and left the lab, on my way to the trusty couch. My pillow was calling to me, I could hear it. I yawned again and my vision blurred once more. I jolted upright as I thought about what Bob had said.

_"He was most likely waiting for another opportunity to strike."_

"Shit!" I said, out loud.

I turned towards the stairs, urgently. Stumbling out of the hallway, I caught sight of something moving in my peripheral vision, still blurred by the tears. Even blurred, I could tell I was about to be hit with something nasty and I had hardly any time to react to it. I threw up my wrist and forced some Will into my bracelet. That's what prevented him from killing me. His spell sliced through the shield at half force, my head exploded with little sparks in front of my eyes and I slumped to the floor as though I was a puppet whose strings had just been cut.

Little knives were slicing in and out of my brain, trying to get me to give up and pass out. I fought them as best I could. I could see a pair of legs running up the stairs to my bedroom. I crawled about two inches before a particularly nasty stab forced me down again. I screamed out in pain and then blackness fell over my eyes with a snap and I was out cold.


	7. Hysteria

**Title:** Child's Play  
**Spoilers:** None in this chapter  
**Summary:** Harry's latest case is uncomfortably familiar and starts him on another quixotic crusade. The only trouble is, how do you stop a killer when you're stuck baby-sitting?  
**Disclaimer: **Harry's world does not belong to me. It belongs to Jim Butcher and SciFi. I merely frolic around merrily in it.

* * *

"Harry? Harry!"

I swatted blindly at the person shaking me. She obviously didn't understand that she was disturbing the nest of woodpeckers living in my head. I cracked an eye open and groaned at the sharp light. My eye closed again and I was shaken again.

"Harry!"

I opened the other eye to see whether that was better. It wasn't, but I got enough of a glimpse to identify my shaker.

"Murphy? Turn down the lights," I said. Or, that was what I tried to say. It came out as "Mmmm? Bri...ght..."

"Sid, close the curtains there," Murphy ordered. There was a moment's silence. "Okay, Harry. The light's gone."

I cracked an eyelid and found the view much less painful. The light still hurt, but not as badly. I opened the other eye and tried to get Murphy in focus. If she could just stop duplicating and stay still, I thought it would be easier. She pressed something to my forehead that was cold and it felt very, very good.

"Harry, what happened?"

What an excellent question. I had to think about it. I had read the newspaper...there was a bit with a stuffed bunny...something about birthday cake? Thinking hurt. I decided to stop and I closed my eyes again. Grey eyes suddenly came to my mind and I would have shot straight up into a sitting position if Kirmani hadn't had his hand on my shoulder to hold me down.

"Graylin!" I said, desperately. I looked wildly to Murphy. She gave me a sympathetic look. "She's gone." Murphy nodded. I groaned and set my head back down on whatever soft thing someone had placed under it. "Hell's Bells!"

"It's not your fault, Harry," Murphy soothed.

"I – wait, it's not?"

"There were four cops around your building and block and nobody saw anyone come or go," she growled. "You're not the one I'm angry with right now, Dresden."

Well, that was a pleasant change of pace. I allowed myself a small moment of enjoying Murphy NOT being mad at me before I went back to fussing and self-loathing. This was not good. This was very, very not good.

It was then I noticed that my kitchen was trashed. The table was knocked over, all the dishes that had been on the table or in the sink were smashed to bits. A few cops were going through the wreckage carefully.

"My stuff," I muttered.

"Yeah, he did a real number on the place," Murphy said, sympathetically. "Your bedroom is a mess too. He even took your sheets."

There was question there that I wasn't with it enough to pick out at that point. It made sense to me, even if it didn't to Murphy. He'd taken care to get rid of anything that might have been able to lead me to Graylin. I felt like having a tantrum. It would have hurt, though, so I resisted.

"Did you see who took her?" Kirmani asked, suddenly pushing his face into my line of sight.

"Gah," I replied, wincing and closing my eyes. "Don't move so fast." I opened my eyes again. "No." There was a flash of something near the lab. Bob. I tried to focus on him without focusing on him enough to draw attention. He was transforming into...a guy a wearing what I would wear if I was gonna go kidnap someone. "Yes. Maybe."

"Harry?" Murphy asked.

She has this way of saying 'Harry?' that tells me instantly what she's thinking. Here it was 'do you have a head injury or are you actually coherent?'. You have to admit, it's pretty impressive to put that much nuance into a two syllable word and a question mark.

"Can I just get a second?" I asked. "I have to...just gimme a second."

"Harry..." 'I don't have time for this crap, wizard.'

"Just one second, Murphy, please."

She nodded and I got up with the help of her and Kirmani. The room toppled dangerously to one side, then righted itself again. I stumbled my way into the downstairs bathroom. The very cold something on my forehead was an ice cold facecloth that had stuck to me even when I was upright. I wet it again in the sink and put it on the back of my neck. The thing with magical bludgeoning, as opposed to your garden variety whacking, is that you don't have a bump. Just a nasty mark at the point of entry and pain all over your skull. I found the entry mark above my ear on the left side. It was bleeding and tender.

"Harry."

Speaking of pain in the skull. "Hi Bob. You shouldn't be out when we have guests."

"I didn't know half of the Chicago police department counted as 'guests'," He replied. "And I was attempting to be of some use."

"You were," I assured him. "Are...will be. I'm going to sit down." I balanced myself on the edge of the bathtub and looked at him. "Do that changey thing again."

He did so and I took a good look at him. About my height, maybe shorter, Graylin was right. I couldn't see much of his face with the ski mask over it and Bob seemed unsure about eye colour, as it didn't change from his own unique shade of pale blue. His hands were covered up with gloves and he was all in black. Altogether your typical thief, except for something in the pocket of his pants. I almost reached out to remove it, but stopped myself in time.

"That's his anthame," I told Bob, pointing to the handle sticking out of the pocket. "His foci. It's the same person who killed Tamsin. Or at least, he has the same knife." I sighed and rubbed my brow. "Was she scared? Did you see him take her?"

"She was asleep, Harry," Bob said, apologetically. "She didn't wake up."

"Shit!" I hissed at myself. "That's the potion. My fucking potion! If she could have screamed, someone might have - "

"Harry, he was clearly very intent on what he was doing," Bob interupted. "He managed to get through your wards, he seemed to have a found a way to neutralize the effect of the child's necklace, he ambushed you, he was able to cloak himself and walk right out the door with her with no one noticing. He is a very talented sorcerer, Harry. You have no need to blame yourself." He sighed. "I was of no more use than you."

"Well, if I'm not allowed to blame myself, you can't blame yourself either," I decided. "We'll just have to fix it." I got up purposefully and then crashed sideways into the wall.

"What do you intend to do?" Bob asked, with a skeptical eyebrow raise.

"No idea," I said, confidently. "But it'll be very heroic and spontaneous, and probably stupid and piss Murphy off and did he hit me with a truth spell or what? Why can't I stop talking?"

"Side effect of the brain addling," Bob replied, making a waving motion by his head. "Energy interfering with your synapses. It should wear off shortly. In the meantime, just nod as much as possible and try to not to tell all your secrets."

"I really hate this guy," I stated, unnecessarily. "I am going to set him on fire or something. No I'm not, that wouldn't be good. Let's pretend I didn't just say that, alright?"

"Indeed."

"Harry?"

Murphy banged on the door. I removed the face cloth from my neck and tossed it in the sink, then stumbled my way out of the bathroom. Bob walked through the nearest wall just in time for me to throw the door open. I put my hand on Murphy's shoulder to steady myself.

"I'm good," I said.

"Were you talking to yourself?" she asked, eyeing me nervously.

I opened my mouth, remembered Bob's advice and closed it again, opting for a nod instead. Murphy shot Kirmani a look I don't think I was supposed to see. I described the guy Bob had turned into before I forgot him. I managed to do it without running off at the mouth, though I did use the word 'fancyknifema-bob' before I could stop myself. Kirmani took notes.

"You saw all that before he hit you?" he questioned.

"Before he hit me and before I passed out completely," I improvised.

"Alright, I'll go call out an APB for a guy in a ski-mask with a 'fancyknifema-bob' in his pocket," Kirmani snarked. "And a girl in an oversize t-shirt wearing a shield around her neck. You'd think these people would stick out in a crowd..."

He pulled his phone out and I took a step back before I fried it. I wasn't in a magic controlling state at that point. Thankfully he went outside to make the call. Murphy rubbed her forehead, looking pained. Aside from my head injury, she probably felt about as good as I did and she had been out fighting crime all morning on top of it.

"You okay?" I asked her.

"I really, really wanna catch this guy and..."

"Set him on fire?" I suggested.

She snorted. "Maybe. God. I just..." She trailed off.

"I know. We'll catch him."

"I know. I just want to catch him in time."

I shuddered a little and nodded. "I know."

I walked through the rest of my place with a few cops, to see if anything else was taken besides the pint-sized female. My bedroom, as Murphy said, was a mess. My drawers had been out-turned, all the sheets were gone. Graylin's clothes were no longer in the bathroom and even the book I'd been reading had been ripped to shreds. There wasn't one bit left of Graylin left anywhere. Bob was right, this guy was good.

My brain settled down as I toured, so I was able to think more clearly. I didn't have anything really deep to think, I was still exhausted, but my tongue seemed to remember that it didn't need to relate everything in my head to the nearest party.

I came back down to find Murphy on her phone, pacing the living room. I stopped short to avoid frying the device and there was a rather cartoonish moment where the trail of cop-ducks behind me all bumped into one another. Murphy hung up and looked to me with a glint in her eye that let me know she was back.

"Jordana Cartwright just arrived at the station," she announced, somewhat triumphantly. "She's Tamsin's older sister. She's on her way over."

* * *

Jordana Cartwight looked so much like her sister that, if I hadn't known she was coming, I probably would have thought her Tamsin's ghost. It took me several minutes to find the subtle differences between them. Jordana was older, by a few years, and her face had sharper, more mature angles to it. She had the same blue eyes, however, the kind that made you want to pay attention to them. At that time, they were red and puffy from crying, which made the blue stand out even more prominently. She was dressed in jeans and a sweater with socks that didn't match and her brown hair fell in messy, unbrushed waves over her shoulders. I made some tea with what dishes I could find that were intact and brought it out to the living room.

"I got the c-call this morning, early," she explained, trying very hard to keep control of herself. She had an interesting voice, very deep and smooth, with good annunciation. "I drove in, all night. The man s-said he found my phone number in an address book. I don't live here."

"When's the last time you talked to your sister?" Murphy asked, gently.

"About...two years ago, I guess," she replied. "Uh, when Tamsin told our parents she was pregnant they freaked out, badly. They didn't kick her out but they sort of implied they'd prefer it if she wasn't around. She was gone the next morning. We looked for her, my brother and I, but it seemed like she disappeared. She sent me a letter after her daughter was born, no return address. Just said she was okay and stuff. Det. Kirmani told me she's missing? Her daughter?"

"Yes, she was taken from here this morning," Murphy confirmed. "We're trying to find her now. We think the man who took her might have been the same man who killed your sister."

Jordana shuddered and her hand shook so badly that tea spilled over the sides of the cup. She didn't seem to notice.

"Two years ago, our father died of a heart attack, Tamsin came to the funeral," she continued. "She didn't bring her daughter."

"Graylin," I interrupted. "Her daughter's name is Graylin."

"I-I didn't even know, she didn't tell us," Jordana said. She wiped some tears from her eyes. "Anyway, she just came for the funeral and left before my brother or I could even talk to her. That's the last time I heard from her."

"So, you wouldn't know if there was anyone here she might have been afraid of, or who had threatened her recently?" Murphy questioned.

Jordana shook her head. "No, I'm sorry."

"Do you know who Graylin's father is?" I asked, pushing my hunch. Murphy gave me a curious look. I ignored her.

"We didn't know for sure, she wouldn't tell our parents. I think she was afraid our dad might go after him or something. He had a bit of a temper. She just said that the father wasn't interested in being the father and she couldn't count on him for help. If I had to guess, I'd say it was Jeremy Blake. He was her boyfriend then, and I don't think she would have slept with anyone else."

"Can you tell us what you remember about him?" I prompted.

"He was older than her, by four years or something," she said. "He knew Dylan, our older brother. She was really in love with Jeremy. He was charming, you know? Knew what to say to everyone. I think he was probably smart too. You know how you can sometimes look at someone and know they're smart? He had that look to him. He was a good match for her, she's really quick. She was." Some tears rolled down her cheeks, but she kept talking. "Uh...he had dark brown hair with some blond in it and these really grey eyes. Handsome, I guess, in a Greek god sort of way. D-do you think it's him?"

Murphy gave me a sideways look. "Apparently, we do." I put on my best innocent face. "Did Mr. Blake seem to you like he would be capable of something like this?"

"Yes," she said, without hesitation. All three of us looked surprised at the readiness with which she answered, even herself. "I mean...he was never violent or anything, but he was arrogant. He seemed like he would have done a lot to get his way. Just a vibe I got from him."

"Alright," Murphy said. "I'm going to run a check on Mr. Blake. I'll be right back." She gave me a look that said 'we'll talk later, Dresden' and got up to make the call on her cell phone.

I moved quickly, as soon as I was sure she was out of earshot. I held my hand over the tape recorder sitting on the coffee table between myself and Jordana and a little spark jumped from my palm, cutting off the power. I hoped that I didn't erase the tape in the process, but this had to be off the record.

"Miss Cartwright, are either of your parents wizards?" I whispered, cutting to the chase. I didn't know how long it would take for Murphy to run her check.

Jordana looked taken aback. "Y-yes. My father was. I saw on your door...you're a wizard too? I wasn't sure if that was serious or not, so I didn't want to say anything...weird."

"It's serious," I assured her. "Do you or your siblings have the gift?"

She nodded. "All three of us. Dylan's the strongest and Tamsin is...was, very good. I don't have the touch for it. I can only do what my dad called 'kitchen magic'. None of the big, elegant stuff."

This was all going quite how I wanted. I leaned forward eagerly. "And is Mr. Blake a wizard?"

"Yes," she breathed. "My dad took him on as an apprentice for a few months when Tamsin was dating him. They didn't really gel, so it was mutually ended. My dad said he was too...um...pretentious, I think it was." Her eyes widened, suddenly. "Wait...was Tamsin...did he...?"

"I think she was killed with black magic," I confirmed. She set down her tea cup with a small 'click' on the table. Half the tea was on her hand anyway. "And I think Mr. Blake did the killing."

She lost it then. She started to sob. My record for making girls cry was holding steady. Hell, maybe I could get Murphy bawling by the end of the day. I had no handkerchief on me for once and I dashed off to the bathroom to fetch her a facecloth. When I returned, Murphy caught my eye and crooked a finger at me. I handed the facecloth to Jordana, murmured something vaguely comforting and headed over to Murphy.

"Why did you ask about the father?" She hissed at me. She had her cell phone held to her shoulder, waiting for whoever was on the other line. "How did you know?"

"Graylin remembered some more stuff this morning," I half-lied. "She mentioned the guy who attacked her had grey eyes. I thought...Tamsin had blue eyes. Grey eyes are more unusual so - "

"Why didn't you mention this to me before?" Murphy demanded.

"I was unconscious!" I defended myself.

"You've been conscious for at least a half hour," she snapped. "What else did she tell you?"

"Nothing much, just about his eyes," I said, quickly. "I'm sorry, Murph, I forgot. There's a lot of stuff going on."

I rubbed my head and I must have looked stressed because she softened slightly. Very slightly.

"Well, I didn't tell you something either," she admitted. "We went through Tamsin Cartwright's phone records. There's been one persistent caller for the past two months. We checked it out, it's a from a pay phone on the other side of the city. Which is useless, we can't pull prints off it. A hundred people probably use it everyday."

"_You won't get what you want."_

"_Last chance, Tamsin."_

"She was being threatened," I surmised. "Or harassed at least."

"Most likely," Murphy agreed. Her phone made some noise and she held it up to her ear again. "I'm here. Yeah. Okay, thanks." She snapped it shut. "Jeremy Blake doesn't have a criminal record, but he did have an apartment near the pay phone for a while. I'm going to go check it out."

"I'll come too."

"No, you won't," she disagreed. "You are going to stay here and lie down and rest your head."

"Murphy - "

"You haven't slept, you were unconscious for God knows how long. You're staying here. I'm pulling my team out, they've got all they can from here. I'm leaving a black and white outside and instructions to bring you right back in if you try to leave."

I felt angry frustration fill up in my stomach and it made me dizzy. I glared at Murphy and she glared back. I wanted so much to hex her right then, find Blake's address for myself and go do some useful detective work. My fists clenched up and Murphy's cell phone popped, then let out a puff of smoke in her hand. She dropped it in surprise and it smashed on the floor.

"Shit!" she growled. "That's the third one this year. I don't know why they keep buying the same damn model for me."

I started to laugh. I didn't mean to and I didn't want to. I was fully aware of how much danger Graylin was in and how bad things were, but I couldn't help it. I was on the edge of sanity and that was the last straw. Murphy gaped at me, clearly under the impression I had lost it completely. Her mouth twitched, she smiled slightly and shook her head.

"Go to bed, Dresden, please." She put a hand on my shaking shoulder, affectionate and motherly. "I'll call you, I promise."

My laughter died down and I nodded, tiredly. "Alright, Murph." I paused and added. "I kind of hate you right now." Maybe my synapses weren't as back to normal as I'd thought.

"Yeah. I kind of hate you too," she said, with a fond smile. "Go to bed."


	8. Tears

**Title:** Child's Play  
**Spoilers:** Brief non-spoilery references to "Storm Front" and a character featured in "Birds of a Feather" and "Bad Blood"  
**Summary:** Harry's latest case is uncomfortably familiar and starts him on another quixotic crusade. The only trouble is, how do you stop a killer when you're stuck baby-sitting?  
**Disclaimer: **Harry's world does not belong to me. It belongs to Jim Butcher and SciFi. I merely frolic around merrily in it.

* * *

Everyone filed out of my place in a timely fashion, leaving me on my own. I promised Murphy I'd lie down, but I couldn't do that. I wouldn't have been able to sleep, knowing that Graylin was out there, in danger. I did decide the danger would not be any worse if I stopped for a peanut butter sandwich, though. It actually ended up being the end crust of bread, folded in half. More of a peanut butter envelope. It was what I could find. I wolfed it down hungrily and took some ibuprofen for my headache. I remembered that I was still wearing the same pants from the night before and decided I might as well see if I could find a clean pair to wear. I was kind of hoping the cleaning elves might have been by to clean up the mess in the time since my last visit, but my room was still a mess. I sat down on the bare mattress of my bed and let my mind go blank for a moment or two. Then I began to sort my thoughts out in an orderly fashion.

I banished the physical thoughts ("I'm tired," "my head hurts,") to one part of my brain. I pushed the worries ("Graylin's in danger," "that guy took you down right through your shield") to another. Negative thoughts ("you let her get kidnapped, you dolt," "figures the one potion that you make that works as planned still bites you in the ass") went left and trivial thoughts ("you need to buy bread," "you need to buy everything") went right. I was left with the productive, helpful thoughts, of which there were few.

"He couldn't have taken everything that Graylin touched," I mused, out loud. "He couldn't have known. There has to be something left. Go through everywhere she's been, everything she did since she came here."

I did, from the moment I brought her in. I replayed every second I could remember. I thought of my pentacle, but it was too closely associated with me. I'd worn it everyday for years and a few hours on someone else's neck wouldn't be enough to erase my experience from it. I kept going, until it hit me.

"She cried on you," I reminded myself. "You had to change your shirt."

I moved my eyes around the room, searching. My first glance turned up nothing, so I started to dig through the mess, tossing everything up on my bed after I'd looked at it. I'd nearly gone through it all when I saw blue fabric sticking out from behind my dresser. I crawled over and yanked the piece of furniture away from the wall. My shirt had slid behind it when I threw it on there. I snatched it up.

I got to my feet and raced down to the lab, all thoughts of pain and fatigue disappearing in my excitement. I threw open the door to the lab and pushed a bunch of stuff off the table, to clear space. Bob's skull teetered on the edge. I picked it up and shook it energetically.

"Hey, get out here," I ordered, before putting safely back on the table.

I raced around the room, gathering up what I needed for my tracking spell. Bob appeared in a glow of yellow and I ran right through him in my haste. I didn't even bother to stop and shiver.

"Harry?" he inquired, tentatively. "What is going on? Have the police..."

"I have her tears," I cut him off, holding the shirt up over my head for him to see as I pulled my crystal from a drawer. "I can track her through her tears, right?"

"In theory, yes," Bob agreed. "If they haven't - "

"Good," I said, eagerly. I began to pour and mix.

Thankfully this was my best spell as it wasn't a time for task requiring careful measuring. I set the potion to boil and set about cutting out a piece of my shirt. Bob gave up trying to ask questions and simply watched with a critical eye, making sure I didn't mess anything up.

"Here goes," I said, a few minutes later.

I dropped the piece of fabric in and let it dissolve, then dunked my crystal into the mixture. Bob looked as tense as I felt and I think he was holding his non-existent breath. The crystal twitched, then swung around and faced me confidently.

"No!" I growled. "No, I'm not looking for myself. I know where I am. Where's Graylin?" I ripped a larger piece off and tried again. Bob shifted restlessly beside me. This time the crystal twitched and kept twitching, pointing away from me, latched onto something weak. "There we go, there she is." I beamed at Bob. "She's not dead. I can still get to her."

"What are going to do?" He asked.

"I'm going to find her," I declared. "And I'm going to rescue her. I'm going to rescue the damsel in distress, defeat the bad guy and then, if I can find some beautiful woman, I'm going to kiss her before the credits roll."

He rolled his eyes. "I meant specifics, Harry. What is your plan?"

"Oh." I frowned. "Hold on, I have to come with it first."

* * *

"Alright, do you get it?" I asked Bob, fifteen minutes later.

He sighed. "Yes, Harry. It's not a terribly complicated scheme."

"Hey, it may not be complicated," I said, pointing a finger at him. "But it's gonna work."

"We shall see."

"Such an optimist, Bob, that's what I like about you."

I turned to the table and retrieved my crystal, which was twitching in an anxious manner, eager to lead me to my goal. I put it in the pocket of my jacket, grabbed a sports bottle and called my hockey stick to me.

"Okay," I said, turning back. "Time to get the show on the road. Ready?"

"Indeed," Bob said.

He blurred out and blurred back as me. Well, me if I was a centuries old British dead guy.

"Loosen up a little," I commanded. "I look too..."

"Dignified?" I suggested, in Bob's voice. My doppelganger slouched his shoulders and gave me a goofy looking smile. "Better?"

"Yeah," I had to admit. "You'll do. So, just make yourself seen once in awhile. Look worried, pace a little. Try to - "

"Harry, I have known you for 25 years, I can be you. You are not that multi-layered," Bob interrupted, impatiently. "And we do not have time for acting lessons. That child is in danger and you need to rescue her."

It's very odd receiving a pep talk from yourself, but it did the job. I took a deep breath and uncapped the sports bottle then took a long swog of it. It tasted like flat soda and cheetah hair. Yuck.

"Don't walk through any walls," were my final words to myself.

There was a pop and I was torn into tiny little pieces, reassembled and thrown out on my ass. I was readier than the last time I'd taken the escape potion (you know, without a crazy demon trying to kill me) and managed to land with some grace on the pavement. It took a moment to get my bearings. I headed out to the mouth of the alley and peered around the building. About two blocks away a police car was parked in front of my shop. Perfect. I allowed myself a moment of triumph.

I couldn't get the jeep, since it was parked too close to the cops in charge of keeping me inside. I had a plan for that, too, though and started to run down the pavement. People looked at me funny, charging down the street as I was. They moved out of my way though. One benefit of being thought a nutter. The diner wasn't too far away from where I'd landed, only a couple more blocks and I got there in record time. I burst in, drawing everyone's attention to me. I have a way of doing that.

"Harry?"

I beamed at Laura when she emerged from behind the counter, relieved that she was working that day. "I need to borrow your car," I said, breathlessly.

She cocked her head at me. I suppose that when the guy that you occasionally date and make watch sappy French movies, the guy who, by the way, thinks he's a wizard, runs into your place of employment looking like he hasn't slept in awhile, carrying a hockey stick and demanding the keys to the vehicle you worked very hard to buy, you're bound to be a little jarred. She took a good look at me and then pointed to the coat rack in the corner.

"My keys are in my pocket," she said.

I gave her a big hug and kissed her hard enough for her to stagger back, then snatched the keys and ran with a call of 'thanks!' over my shoulder. Laura's good people.

Her car was a red Fit, of which she was very proud, and easy to find in the parking lot. Machines have a way of malfunctioning on me, but I managed to get going without injuring me, the vehicle or anyone else.

Following the crystal is delicate work. You go too fast and it gets confused, you go too slow and you go in circles. I was feeling especially impatient at this point and it took every ounce of self-restraint not to go barreling around the city like a maniac. I followed it and my instincts to the into a more suburban neighbourhood. It wasn't really the place I expected to find a crazy ass dark wizard, but I guess that was the point.

It wasn't a long drive to the small, well-kept house where my crystal made me stop. I drove down the block a bit and parked the car, then walked back to the house. It was white, very clean and had bright open windows on the upper level. The windows of the basement were curtained, however, and the taste of black licorice hung in the air.

I could have stayed back, assessed the situation and compiled a plan of action. I could have called Murphy and told her I thought I'd found the girl and let the police handle it. I could have been rational. Of course, I wasn't. I walked up to the front door and blasted the lock. There were spells there to keep me out, but I foiled them pretty quickly. They weren't designed to be the real challenge, just to keep away pests.

The living room was painfully clean and unlived in looking. I kept my hockey stick out in front of me as I carefully looked around the top level. There were more rooms that looked to be there for decoration but no people were present. At the far end of the hallway off the living room was another door, but this one tripped up my magic sensors. I paused to open my Third Eye. There were...things. Squirmy, slimy, wiggly things that crawled around the doorway. The kind of things that feed of dark energy. The kind of things that give me the heebie jeebies. I also found a nasty looking sentry demon there too, hidden. He was ready to eat me the moment I got too close.

Sentry demons are little like guard dogs. They can block a path like nobody's business and they just love to do it. As demons go, summoning one isn't the worst thing that you can do. They're pretty tame and as long as you give them something to stand in front of, they can be fairly loyal. For the person trying to get past them, though, they're a real pain in the ass. Fortunately, they were also kind of stupid.

"Hi there," I said, conversationally.

"Unopass," he replied.

"Right, back atcha. Anyway, I need to go down there. Save a kid, stop a dark wizard, you know, that sort of thing. You wouldn't be interested in just stepping aside, wouldja? Please?"

"Unopass," he growled.

"Yeah, that's what I thought. Alright, well, catch."

I tossed a ball of fire at him and he reached out to catch it. Like I said, kind of stupid. He let out a yelp as the fire burned his slimy skin and then set his yellow eyes on me furiously. Then he charged. I may not be the most athletic guy, but I can do two things really well: fall down and get the heck out of the way. I dodged, let him go barreling past and then ran top speed down the hall. It's never that easy, though. He reoriented himself and grabbed me by the shoulder, then threw me back away from the door as though I were a piece of lint he was flicking from his clothes. If he were wearing clothes.

I landed on my back, which was better than my head, and the wind was knocked out of me. Obviously the simple dodge and dash tactic wasn't going to work, he was too quick. The demon repositioned himself in front of the door, not bothering to come finish me off. His job was to guard that door and whatever happened on either side of it was none of his business.

I got myself upright again and did some quick thinking. I had to get him out of the way. Not necessarily defeat him, but keep him away from that door long enough for me to get through it. I fished around in the front pockets of my hoodie, where I keep lots of things that often come in handy. There was nothing there but a grocery receipt that had gone through the wash and Laura's car keys, though. Her key chain was a glittery disco ball. I weighed the heavy Fit key in my hand and got an idea. I aimed it towards where I had parked and hit the car alarm button. A siren started to wail. In this neighbourhood, fairly well to do, a few other cars joined in, triggered by the noise. Then a few more. Sometimes, very rarely, I love technology.

The demon screamed at the high pitched noise and threw his head around angrily. I set my hockey stick aglow and held it up to Laura's key chain. The disco ball sparkled. I held it up by the key and spun it back and forth, sending the mirrored pattern spinning. The demon went nuts at the sensory input and charged at me again. This time, when I dodged him, he was too disoriented to come after me right away. I bolted for the door, silently reminding myself to buy Laura some flowers or something, and did a baseball slide towards it. I kicked it open and it erupted with a green burst of light, but I had already slid safely through before it could catch me. I thumped down three stairs before I slowed to a stop. My ass was bruised, but I was intact. I looked upwards to the door. The demon was there, staring at me angrily with no idea what to do. His job was to keep people from passing through he door, what was he supposed to do once they'd already done it? With an angry snarl he slammed the door shut. I'd have to come back and deal with him later.

Right then, I had a girl to rescue.


	9. Shoot Out

**Title:** Child's Play  
**Spoilers:** None in this chapter  
**Summary:** Harry's latest case is uncomfortably familiar and starts him on another quixotic crusade. The only trouble is, how do you stop a killer when you're stuck baby-sitting?  
**Disclaimer: **Harry's world does not belong to me. It belongs to Jim Butcher and SciFi. I merely frolic around merrily in it.

* * *

There were more creepy crawlies in the stairwell, writhing on the walls and ceiling. I shut my third eye with haste. They didn't pose a threat and I didn't want to have to look at them. I stood up, brushed myself off and hoisted my hockey stick up again, then moved slowly down the steps, using my Senses to warn me about trouble. The smell and thrum of dark magic got stronger the closer that I got to the bottom. I peeked around the wall and couldn't decide where to put my eyes first. There was the giant altar set up against one wall, filled with objects that looked nasty, except for the fluffy stuffed bunny perched sadistically in the middle of it. The bunny I'd given Graylin to hold. Then there was the guy standing in the middle of the room, chanting under his breath with energy crackling the air around him. What finally grabbed my full attention, was the large circle constructed on the floor from what looked to be metal. Inside, Graylin lay on her side, curled up in a ball, still fast asleep. I struggled between feeling relieved that she couldn't see what was happening or where she was and self-flagellation that she couldn't do anything to help herself. At least I knew I could make one hell of a sleeping potion if I needed to.

As I stood there, the circle started to glow, the light slowly working its way around the rim. I knew whatever was going to happen, it was going to happen when the circle closed and I really didn't want it to happen. So, without really thinking about it, I charged into the room, past the creepy altar, past the guy chanting in Latin and slammed my foot down on the edge of the circle just as the glow was about to merge with itself. Pain shot up my leg and my knee was knocked out of joint with a sickening pop. The glow died with a fizzle and I screamed out something that I don't think was in English.

"You!" A voice behind me roared.

I whirled around in time to be hit with a blast from the end of Jeremy Blake's anthame. I decided it was him as I was thrown back against the wall. He was definitely the guy from the alley and seemed to fit Jordana Cartwright's description. I hit the wall and fell to the floor, both my back and my ass protesting the continued abuse and my knee popping back into place.

"You should be dead!" Blake shouted.

He was terrifying in full fury, nothing to what I'd seen in Graylin's memory. He glowed with rage, his eyes were ice and his face was all angles, painfully cold and still managing to be handsome at the same time. He reeked of black magic and it sparked off him in a dark aura that the average person couldn't have seen. I saw it clearly, though. It made my stomach churn.

"You have no idea how often I hear that," I said.

I pulled my hockey stick up and gave him a good blast from it. He stumbled back a few steps, but remained upright. I sent a couple more blasts his way, knocking him away from the circle and Graylin. He barely flinched. I found that very annoying.

"I don't have time for you," he growled. "Everyone keeps getting in my damn way!" He sent a wild ball of flame at me, which hit the wall above my head and singed my hair a bit. I rolled out of the way and behind a foundation pillar. "There's not enough time for this crap!"

"Loony," I muttered, under my breath.

Chunks of plaster flew by my face from another shot of energy. This would have been an excellent time to tell Graylin to run to safety while I distracted the bad guy. Too bad I'd put her so soundly asleep, we probably could have removed her appendix without her noticing.

There was a large rune painted on the wall in front of me. Rune identification has never been my strong point, but I was pretty sure it was 'blood'. I looked to my left and right and found two more runes on those walls. One I couldn't decipher and the other seemed to be 'family'. Bob's voice in my head immediately told me I was being too literal and I reevaluated. 'Kin' was a better word. 'Relation'. I couldn't see the rune on the wall behind me but the combination of 'relation', 'blood', an altar, his daughter and a giant circle made me guess it was some sort of ritual. I also guessed that Graylin would have to die to complete it, or at least shed some blood. I decided that was not going to happen.

"Blake!" I shouted back, as more plaster flew around me. "Look, whatever you need, whatever you're doing, let me help you. Let the girl go and I'll help you get it done in time, okay?"

Murphy says you have to give criminals a chance to be reasonable before you attack them. That's civilian law. Wizard law says you can try, convict and sentence somebody without them knowing about it, then come and try to behead them. Subtle and quick to anger, that's us.

"Fuck off!" Blake snarled.

Okay, I'd covered reasonable. Time to kick some ass. I picked up a large chunk of plaster that had landed by my feet and peered around the pillar to mark my target. He was standing the same spot as before, his anthame pointed in my direction. I don't think it even occurred to him to move or come after me. That's what happens when you rely on magic too much. You forget there are other ways of doing things and you get corrupted by that power. I could use that to my advantage.

I stepped out from around the pillar and hurled the plaster at him. He wasn't expecting that. He wouldn't have thought that I'd use anything but magic against him. Sometimes magic doesn't compare to hurling a rock, though. I think that belief is why Bob says I'm a troglodyte. The plaster collided with Blake's shoulder and knocked him to the ground. He screamed in rage and I sped towards him, tackling him as he started to get up.

My highschool principal once told my uncle that I fight 'teeth, fist and toe'. That was a polite way of saying I fight dirty. I was a skinny wizard living in a mansion with his rich uncle. I didn't drop out of highschool just because I was failing math. I had to fight dirty to survive.

I punched Blake in the face a couple of times. He finally realized what was happening and punched me back, hard. I saw stars. He pushed me off him and kicked me in the stomach. I twisted as I fell and he wrapped his arm around my neck from behind, bringing his knife down towards me. I bit his hand. He recoiled in pain and disgust. I snatched up my hockey stick and brought it down on his head, knocking him out.

I took a moment to catch my breath and kicked the knife across the room. Then I got up and limped over to Graylin. She was still asleep. I shook her, hard.

"Graylin?" I called. "Graylin, sweetie. You have to wake up now." Blake stirred slightly. "Seriously, kiddo, wake up. Now."

She groaned a little and opened her eyes for a moment, before closing them again. She murmured something cute and wriggled before opening her eyes once more and looking around. Then she started to scream.

"It's him," she whimpered, looking at Blake's prone form. "Harry!"

"I know," I said, scooping her up. "I know, sweetie. I'm really sorry. I'm gonna get you out of here, okay?"

I hurried to one of the windows and tore the curtain down. I used my staff to break the glass and ran it around the frame to knock the jagged pieces loose. Then I lifted Graylin up and helped her crawl through. She hissed as some of the glass on the grass outside bit into her, but she kept going, spinning around when she was done, peering in at me.

"You have to run," I told her. "You get far away from here and you find someone to help you, okay? A mother who has kids with her, or a police person. You get them to call Lt. Murphy and she'll come and help you. Got that?"

She nodded, eyeing Blake over my shoulder. "What about you?"

"I'll be okay," I assured her, with a smile.

"He'll hurt you!" she whispered. "You have to come too."

"No, I can't," I said. "I won't fit. You have to go, okay? Don't worry about me. Just run."

She hesitated, then got to her feet and left. I sighed with relief, then turned around to see a giant ball of fire flying towards my head. I guess Blake had woken up. I ducked and rolled, but there was nowhere to roll to. He hit me with a battering of spells that beat me down until I managed to get control of my hockey stick and fire a few volleys back. What happened next was a good ol' fashioned shoot out, wizard style. Spells flew back and forth, bouncing off one another.

Smash! Went the altar. Smash! Went one of the walls. He knew more spells than I did, but I had more control than him. We weren't getting anywhere, just slapping at each other's faces. I felt exhausted. Then he changed tactics and made a stabbing motion with his knife. I felt myself snap to attention and I lost the ability to move of my own accord. I dropped my staff and started to march towards him.

Enthralling someone, taking over their mind to do your bidding, is illegal in the magic world. It's right up there with 'thou shall not kill' and 'thou shall not mess with the time-space continuum'. It's considered black magic, if not quite Black Magic and can get you in a lot of trouble if you're caught doing it. It takes a large amount of skill to do and the person's mind needs to be open to suggestion or very weak. At that point, I was exhausted enough from the fight, from the lack of sleep, from the worry, that getting into my mind was a snap. That had been Blake's intent with both Tamsin and I. Wear us down until we were weak enough to bend to his will.

A voice was very insistent telling me to lie down. It was my own voice, inside my head and it was damned convincing. Lying down seemed like a great idea. And you know what would be even better than that? If I lay down in that circle on the floor. Excellent idea. Brilliant.

I told it to shut up.

I fought with every ounce of strength I had left, every bit of magic I could muster. I didn't want to die. I kept telling myself that, drowning out the other voice telling me that it was the best idea I'd ever heard. Blake's Will burned through my body but didn't do any damage to my physical being. My spiritual being was in agony and screaming, silently because I couldn't control my mouth. It suddenly occurred to me that, despite my best efforts, I was gonna die eventually. He was very powerful, very angry and very dark. A lethal combination. The only way that I was gonna beat him was to be more powerful, angrier and darker. I could do it, too. I could go that dark. It wouldn't even be hard. It's always been there, inside me.

I could feel it rising, the dark, the anger, the ability to lash out and kill this bastard. I fought it. I didn't want to win that way. I couldn't go there again and come back as myself. I didn't want to go as a dark as a guy who would kill his own daughter in a ritualistic sacrifice. So, I resigned myself to dying. It actually wasn't that scary. I'd done what I set out to do, Graylin was free. I looked up at him, looked him in the eyes and showed I wasn't afraid. He sneered at me. Then he flinched slightly, once, twice, three times. Spots appeared on his shirt, dark spots that started to spread. He looked surprised and turned away from me. He aimed the knife elsewhere, but before he could do anything, the back of his head exploded. It wasn't pretty. He fell to the ground, hard. I fell with him, released from the spell. Murphy came down the stairs, her gun out in front of her. You would not believe how beautiful she looked to me at that moment.

"Harry?" She called, skirting carefully around Blake's crumpled form. "You okay?"

I couldn't answer, I was sucking in oxygen as deeply as I could. I managed to lift a hand and wave it at her. Kirmani had joined us, gun at the ready and several little cop-ducks followed him. Murphy lowered her gun and came over to me, kneeling down. Her eyes went all around the room to the symbols on the walls and the circle on the floor and the smashed altar. She was creeped out, I could tell. After taking it all in, her attention snapped back to me with determined focus.

"What the hell are you doing here?" she yelled, giving me a hard smack to my side. I yelped. "Do you have to do the exactly opposite of **everything** I say? You're worse than my daughter."

I didn't have enough breath for a defense. "Graylin?" I asked, when I could manage it.

"She's safe, we saw her running down the road on our way here," Murphy informed me. She seemed to calm down fairly quickly, maybe realizing how pathetic I looked. "She insisted we come here to help you. She was hysterical about it."

I relaxed and flopped over on my back. "How did you know where to come?"

"Oh, well, between one of the neighbours calling to report a man with a hockey stick was breaking into the house across the street, a report of strange noises coming from next door and the sudden malfunction of every car alarm on the block, you weren't exactly hard to find, Harry," Murphy grumped. She looked like she wanted to smack me again. "Also, the landlord at Blake's old apartment building gave us the name of the gas station where Blake used to work. A guy there thought Blake was buying a house in this area, saw some paperwork, but couldn't figure out how he was affording it on his salary. We ran a check with the real estate agents and found the house being leased to a guy who matched Blake's description."

I nodded, impressed. Murphy was an awesome cop.

"How did **you** know where to come?" she asked.

I thought. I thought really hard. I could not come up with a lie, I was too tired. "I cast a tracking spell on her tears," I said.

Murphy rolled her eyes. "Alright. And what is all this?" She gestured around her.

"Stuff to do a ritualistic sacrifice," I answered, promptly.

"And why would he do that?"

I frowned. "I haven't figured that out yet."

Murphy nodded. "Well, when you do, let me know." I gave her a thumbs up. She sighed heavily. "Harry - "

"I know," I interrupted. "You kind of hate me right now."

"Yeah," she said.

Then she smiled.


	10. Family

**Title:** Child's Play  
**Spoilers:** None in this chapter  
**Summary:** Harry's latest case is uncomfortably familiar and starts him on another quixotic crusade. The only trouble is, how do you stop a killer when you're stuck baby-sitting?  
**Disclaimer: **Harry's world does not belong to me. It belongs to Jim Butcher and SciFi. I merely frolic around merrily in it.

* * *

I was ambushed by Graylin when I came out of the house. She leapt into my arms and hugged me firmly until Murphy gently pried her off so I could get checked out by the EMTs that had arrived at the scene. Graylin followed me to the ambulance and sat next to me while they examined my head, knee and back. Which reminded me,

"Hey Murph, none of your people got eaten by an invisible monster when you came downstairs, did they?" I asked her.

She glared at me. "No, Dresden."

"Good, just checking."

I was only confused until I caught a glimpse of a stony-faced black man in the crowd of people who had converged around the police tape. When I looked again, he'd disappeared. Morgan.

* * *

During my escapades of the day, a will had been found, recently drawn up by Tamsin Cartwright. It requested that, in the event of her death, Graylin should be placed in the care of her older brother, Dylan. All monetary assets were to be used to assist Dylan in caring for Graylin, and any furniture or items that were no longer of use were to be donated to a women's shelter downtown.

Jordana had called Dylan shortly after the police called her, but he lived in England and had been unable to get a flight in until noon. He was still in the air, so until he arrived, I remained Graylin's legal guardian. Murphy and I decided that she'd had enough trauma for one day without forcing her to mingle with relatives she'd never met. Graylin came home with me after we'd cleared up all the legal work. Murphy spun a good tale about what had gone on and even managed to get me permission to take all the magical paraphernalia from the scene after I strongly implied it would not be safe for anyone else to handle.

Murphy ordered a pizza and brought it over for supper, along with some clothes for Graylin. She ate with us, then returned to the office to wrap up the case. I spent the rest of the evening sorting through Blake's stuff with Bob, deciding what needed to be destroyed and what could be of use. Graylin drew some butterflies with a packet of crayons I found in a drawer in the lab and some parchment. I made my bed up with fresh sheets and a comforter from the closet.

It was another long night. Graylin woke up five times with nightmares, about me dying, about her dying, about Tamsin dying. I talked her through them and got a few hours sleep on the floor next to the bed between times. We had cold pizza for breakfast the next morning. I am going to be a great dad.

I think Bob had taken a liking to Graylin, because he seemed to follow her around for most of the next day. Maybe he likes kids or maybe he just liked talking to someone other than me. Or maybe he was enjoying the sort of awe with which Graylin listened to his stories. My awe has somewhat dimmed over the years.

Jordana Cartwright called mid-morning. Dylan was safely in Chicago and I offered to cook dinner that night for all three Cartwrights to get acquainted. I also invited Murphy, who accepted. I then realized that I had neither food, nor anything to serve it on. You can get anything delivered these days, though, so I called in an order and the grocery boy brought me some ingredients and plastic plates.

At 6:30 that night, Graylin was in the lab with Bob, receiving a lecture on faeries, from what I could hear of it when I passed by, and I was making dinner. Spaghetti, which is the only thing that I can make en masse that constitutes a meal.

I moved the pasta off the rimmer before I headed to the door to respond to the knock, so it wouldn't boil over. Through the glass I could see Jordana and behind her was a blond haired man. I opened the door, still not used to how much Jordana looked like her sister. Again, it took me a few moments to find the little details that were different.

"Hello, Mr. Dresden," she said, awkwardly.

"Harry," I corrected. "Come on in."

I stepped back to let the two of them through. The blond man stopped on the threshold to give a firm shake of my hand. He was just a few inches short than me and probably in his late twenties.

"I'm Jordana and Tamsin's brother," he introduced himself. "Dylan."

He had the faint accent of an ex-pat, something hinting at not quite American and he had the Cartwright eyes, bright blue and intriguing. He also radiated magic, like any wizard would. Despite my profession, I don't meet real wizards everyday and the ones I do meet usually don't like me very much. There was a boyish side of me that wanted to sit him down and talk shop.

"Do you really just put that on your door?" He asked, jerking his head towards the painted words 'Harry Dresden, Wizard'. I shrugged a little and he smirked. "That's a bit barmy."

"Thanks," I said. "Uh, Graylin's in the back. I'll go get her. Sit down, please."

I headed back to the lab, where Graylin was once again perched on the table. Bob was in front of her, standing with his hands behind his back in a professorish way. It was a familiar stance to me.

"Harry!" Graylin exclaimed, when she saw me. Her eyes were wide with awe at whatever she was being told. "Do you really have a faerie godmother?"

I glared at Bob who looked away. "Ah, yeah."

"What's her name?"

"It's a secret."

"Aww!"

I smiled. "Your aunt and uncle are here."

Her smile dropped from her face and she looked down at her feet, twisting the bottom of her shirt in her hands. "Oh."

"C'mon, kiddo," I encouraged. "They're your family."

She looked up at me, somewhat desperate. "What if they're mean? Or I don't like'm? Or they don't like me? I wanna stay with you." Her hand reached out and grabbed mine. She really needed to stop doing that.

"I know, kiddo," I said, carefully. "But there are people there who want to look after you – not that I don't want to look after you, but - "

"Harry isn't your family," Bob stepped in. "Not to mention he can barely look after himself." This earned a small smile from Graylin and a roll of the eyes from me. "You are a very special girl. You deserve to be with people who love you."

Graylin's legs swung restlessly and she was watching her feet with a woeful expression again. "I know."

"I'll tell you what," I said. "Let's just see how it goes, okay? If you absolutely can't stand them, I won't make you go. We'll find something else, alright?"

She looked up to judge me, something I had become used to by now. "Promise?"

"I promise." I held up a finger warningly. "But you have to try. Promise?"

Another hint of a smile. "Promise."

"Alright, let's do this. Try to look cute, grown-ups love cute kids," I teased her, with a tickle to her sides.

She giggled and let me lower her to the ground again. I looked over to Bob, giving him a look of thanks. He shrugged and nodded in his 'this is a waste of my talents' way, but gave Graylin a fond smile when she looked his way too.

We left the lab and returned to the living area. Jordana was sitting primly on the couch, twitching at Dylan to stop doing something. He had a small glass ball from one of my tables spinning furiously in the air over his outstretched palm. He was using it for what it was for – to take the edge off and concentrate your magical energy into something solid. The fact that he was nervous reassured me that he cared about making a good impression. He looked up at me and the ball shattered. The shards missed his face in that lucky way wizards sometimes have.

"Sorry," he said, sheepishly. "I'll pay for that."

"Don't worry about it," I said.

He leaned sideways at the waist, peering, and it took me a moment to realize that Graylin was hiding behind me, only her face peeking out around my hip.

"Hi there," he said.

"Hi," Graylin said, shyly.

I stepped away so she was fully exposed and crouched to be at her level. "This is your Uncle Dylan and your Aunt Jordana."

Graylin leaned in to whisper to me. "She looks like my mommy."

"I know," I whispered back. "Is that okay?"

"I think so," she nodded. She looked to Dylan and spoke in a louder tone. "Are you a wizard?"

He nodded.

"Do you have a ghost?"

He gave me a confused look but said, "No. I have a cat, though. She tries to steal my tuna sandwiches."

"I like tuna sandwiches," Graylin said, carefully.

Dylan smiled. "Me too."

Jordana piped up in her smooth voice, "Me three."

* * *

I let the Cartwright clan introduce themselves by wandering back to the kitchen to finish making dinner. I kept an ear out for any trouble, but tried not to eavesdrop, either. Every once in awhile I could catch a few words or Graylin's shy giggle. Bob stuck his head through the wall to look inquiringly at me and I gave him thumbs up. He disappeared again just in time for Murphy to knock on my back door a second later. I'd asked her to come a little after Dylan and Jordana so everyone would have time to bond. I waved her in.

"I brought salad," she greeted me, shoving a large bowl towards me. "I didn't think you'd have salad."

"I don't, thanks," I said, taking the bowl.

"You sleep at all?"

"Not a lot. Does it show?"

She smirked. "It always shows on you, Dresden." She jerked her head in the direction of the voices. "How's it going?"

"Okay, I think. No screams of horror yet."

She slipped off her jacket and flung it onto the coat rack, then rubbed her hands together. "I want to help. With dinner."

"Oh-kay," I said, surprised. Murphy didn't seem the dinner sort to me. For some reason, I couldn't connect ass-kicking cop with gourmet chef in my mind. "Can you stir the sauce for me?"

We worked side-by-side for the next few minutes, Murphy relating a few more details about the case.

"They did an autopsy on Blake," she said. "He was full of cancer. Leukemia that had spread everywhere, liver, brain, lungs. Butters was surprised he was even upright. He couldn't have had more than a few weeks to live."

I had gone over the runes with Bob and we worked the whole thing out to be some sort of ritual that would take life energy from the relation and use it to prolong your own life, effectively killing the relative. Bob thought it must have been a pretty old ritual, made when children were considered less important than the family patriarch. I suppose if you'd never met your kid or care about her, you wouldn't be any less torn out about killing her than anyone else. You know, if you were an evil maniac. I couldn't figure out why Blake was so desperate for Graylin's life energy, but it fit now. _"There's not __enough time for this crap!"_

"That's gotta be terrifying at 25 years old," Murphy continued. "Butters thinks the brain tumour was affecting his reasoning. Made him paranoid, thinking he needed to kill Graylin to survive. Sort of a pseudo-schizophrenia."

"Makes sense," I agreed. Fairly close to the truth, too. "What about Tamsin? What's her official cause of death?"

"Her heart stopped," Murphy said. "Pass me the salt." She added some to my sauce. "Butters thinks that it was some sort of genetic condition, induced by the stress of the situation. Her heart gave out. No one's been able to explain her eyes, though. She didn't have any drugs in her system."

"Huh," I said.

"When I came in," she mused. "You had eyes like that, I thought. When I looked again they were back to normal, though."

"Must have been a trick of the light," I shrugged.

We worked silently after that except for 'pass me...' and 'excuse me...'. Turns out, Murphy was a much better cook than I. She didn't even burn the garlic bread, a feat I have yet to accomplish. I left her to finish up while I checked on the proceedings in the living room.

Graylin was sitting native style on the couch next to Jordana, looking at a photo album. Dylan sat on the arm and peered over Graylin's shoulder. Both adults were pointing and sharing a story, filling in sentences for one another. Graylin looked calm, if not quite happy. She noticed me first.

"Harry! Uncle Dylan has a whole backyard in Sheffield," she informed me. "Only he calls it a back garden, 'cause he talks British. And he has a cat named Strudel."

"Cool," I said, making sure to look impressed. I felt a little twinge of jealousy that I ignored. She wasn't mine to keep, no matter how cute she was or how well she fit into my dysfunctional little family. "Dinner's ready."

Dinner went smoothly. It wasn't exactly a happy affair, all circumstances considered, but we made the best of it. Murphy automatically leaned over and cut up Graylin's spaghetti for her. I found that oddly endearing. Murphy did her best interrogation on Dylan and I helped. He was a writer, for a newspaper in England and lived in an old brownstone in Yorkshire. Aside from his cat, he also had a fiancee living with him, named Katrina. He showed us a picture, she was a very cute little thing with cat's eye glasses. She was a paramedic and couldn't get the time off to come with him. They'd met after some accident with a photocopier at his office, which sounded like something that might happen to me. Overall, Murphy and I both approved of him. Graylin seemed to like him too and was willing to go back to the hotel with him and Jordana that night. I had to let her, since I no longer had legal responsibility over her. I helped her gather up what few things she had at my place.

"What do you think?" I asked her, as I collected up the butterflies she'd drawn. "Is it gonna be okay?"

"I think he's nice," she replied, thoughtfully. "And he smiles like my mommy. I want to meet his cat."

Fair enough. Dylan promised to bring Graylin by the next day before they left for England, so I didn't have to say goodbye to her forever at that point. It was good, I don't think I could have taken it. I was exhausted. Murphy stayed after the Cartwrights had departed and helped me clean up. After I'd spent two minutes staring off into space blankly while scrubbing a fork that really wasn't that dirty, she sent me to bed. I complied this time.


	11. Goodbye

**Title:** Child's Play  
**Spoilers:** None in this chapter  
**Summary:** Harry's latest case is uncomfortably familiar and starts him on another quixotic crusade. The only trouble is, how do you stop a killer when you're stuck baby-sitting?  
**Disclaimer: **Harry's world does not belong to me. It belongs to Jim Butcher and SciFi. I merely frolic around merrily in it.

* * *

Tamsin's funeral was the next day and Jordana made it known to me that I would not be unwelcome if I chose to come, but I didn't feel comfortable with that. I didn't know Tamsin when she was alive and a funeral should be about the life a person lived, not the death they had.

Graylin and Dylan stopped by afterwards, to say goodbye before they went to England. Dylan wandered off to look at my wizardish stuff while Graylin and I parted ways. Both Cartwrights looked worn and teary.

"How you doin', kiddo?" I asked Graylin. I was sitting on the two steps that come up from the living room while she stood in front of me, putting us at eye level with each other.

"It was sad," she said.

"Yeah," I agreed. "They're like that."

"I cried," she confided.

"That's okay."

"I know. Uncle Dylan said so."

"He's a smart guy."

"I was too busy being scared before to be sad," she told me, in one of those startlingly philosophical moments kids tend to have. "Now I'm not scared anymore because you made it better, so I can be sad." She toyed with the hem of the little dress she had on. "Uncle Dylan said it's okay not to be sad all the time though. We got ice cream and I wasn't sad then." She looked me in the eyes. "I think you should get ice cream too, Harry. 'Cause sometimes you look sad."

It was about at that point I decided I might just kidnap her and keep her for myself, so she could say wonderfully kid-like things like that all the time and cheer me up.

"I'll try that," I promised, with a smile.

"Uncle Dylan says England is far away," she told me. "Is flying scary?"

"Nah," I assured her. "Your ears will feel funny when you take off and land, but they have really good cheese." She seemed to accept this. "Listen, cutestuff, you're gonna have to go soon, so I want you to have this." I gave her the stuffed bunny that I'd rescued from the mess at Blake's place, which I had put a little protection spell on. You can never be too careful.

Her face lit up. "Really? But you won't have anything to snuggle with!"

"I'll be alright. He likes you more than me, I think."

She hugged him to her chest. "I'm going to call him Bob."

"Excellent name." Bob would love having a fluffy pink bunny with a heart-shaped nose as his namesake, I was sure.

There was a crash from behind us and Dylan gave me a sheepish look. "I'll pay for that."

I laughed. "Don't worry about it."

He pulled a pocket watch out and examined the time. "We've got to go soon, Graylin, to catch our flight. Why don't you go say goodbye to your ghost friend? I want to talk to Mr. Dresden for a minute."

"He's just down the hall, where he always is," I told her, pointing. "Just yell for him, he'll come out."

I got to my feet and Graylin hurried down the hall, bunny in hand. Dylan put his watch back into his pocket and watched her go, with the kind of smile on his face you only get to have when you're a parent or equivalent to someone.

"She's a lot like Tamsin," he shared. "When she was little. There's some of Jeremy in there though, I think I'll have to watch out for it. He was my friend, you know, Jeremy. I introduced them."

"It's not your fault," I offered.

He ran a hand through his hair, looking tired. "No, it's not. I know that. It'll just take me awhile to convince myself of it. Uh, that's not what I wanted to talk to you about, though. Last night a man with a sword came to our hotel room?"

"Morgan," I muttered.

"Yes, Morgan," he said, with a laugh. "He gave me a spiel about how Graylin would be better off in the care of the council and she was special and needed to be watched over. It was a nice spiel, actually, very enthusiastic."

"Morgan takes his job as Warden very seriously," I agreed.

"Yeah. I've only ever met my Warden the once. Her name is Shelley. Very Irish. This big," he made a pinching measurement. "Scary as all hell. Nearly took my head off for saving my girlfriend from some lycanthropes. Anyway, I told him to shove off. I thought I'd let you know, since he seemed to think you were behind my reasoning. You might be getting a visit is what I'm saying."

"Yeah, I'll be getting one eventually," I dismissed it. "It happens every few days or so."

He smiled. "Well, good luck. And thank you, sincerely and honestly." He fumbled for words for a second before settling on, "You're awesome. What you did for us was awesome. So thank you."

I felt my cheeks flush. They do that. "It wasn't any trouble," I started. Dylan gave me a look. "Okay, it was lots of trouble but I don't regret it. Just look after her. Morgan's right – she's special. You ever need anything, advice or help or just someone to talk to, gimme a call."

"I will, thank you."

We shook hands and waited by the door for Graylin to return. She did about a minute later. I could see the flash of Bob returning to his skull behind her.

"I'm ready now," Graylin declared, on arrival. She motioned for me to crouch and she wrapped her arms around my neck when I did so. "Bye, Harry. Thank you for being my friend and helping me. And for Bob."

"No problem, kiddo," I said. "You behave yourself. No spell casting until you're at least ten and stay very far away from faeries. They're rampant in England."

She giggled. "Okay."

She slipped into the coat Dylan held for her and took his hand. Dylan and I shook hands again. I could feel the magic in him, good magic, flowing up my arm. He was a good guy. They left and got into the waiting taxi. Graylin waved at me until they were out of sight. I closed the door and sighed a little. I could see Bob flash into existence in the reflection of the glass.

"She will be alright, Harry," he said.

"I know," I told his reflection.

His mouth twitched slightly. "Bob?"

I laughed and raised my hands in a sign of innocence. "I had nothing to do with it, I swear."

We were silent for a long minute, just staring out the window. I grabbed my coat and scarf from the rack with sudden decision.

"Where are you going?" Bob asked, with a frown.

I shrugged and smiled at him. "I'm going to get some ice cream."

* * *

Jordana Cartwright dropped by two days later as part of her 'wrapping up business' before heading home. She wanted to pay me for my services, and we argued for about ten minutes before compromising on half my usual rate and her taking me out for dinner. We avoided all topics of unpleasantness and she turned out be very charming date. She went home the next day and that was the last I heard from any Cartwrights for a long time.

This morning, about six months since Tamsin's death, I got a letter with a return address in England. Inside was a long piece of parchment with wizardly scrawl on it. 'A Letter from Miss Graylin Cartwright to Wizard Harry Dresden, as transcribed by Mr. Dylan Cartwright'. It told me about England, the rainy weather, school, Dylan's fiancee, his cat and swimming lessons. She sounded very happy. The envelope also contained a drawing of a little girl with a pink bunny and a very tall man with a hockey stick.

I've stuck it on my refrigerator.

**The End**


End file.
